


Future's Comin' Much Too Slow

by bagheerita



Series: Collected Tales of the OOOT-verse [3]
Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes
Genre: Anal Sex, Bittersweet, Blow Jobs, Comic Book Science, Condoms, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Language, M/M, Skrulls - Freeform, at some point the author should just admit this universe is more angsty than intended, but it won't happen today, covers episodes 1.1 through 2.4, imprisonment and referenced torture, selective narrator, single instance of DUBCON (non-penetrative), those two things are related, vague references to a canon abusive parent, with ep 2.10 ("Prisoner of War") happening concurrently to 2.4 ("Welcome to the Kree Empire")
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagheerita/pseuds/bagheerita
Summary: Tony forms the Avengers and helps Steve adjust to life in the 21st century. Steve thought he was adjusting okay, before he gets sent on a series of rather impromptu inter-realm (and interplanetary) jaunts. In the middle of that, Clint thinks that skinny scientist who shares a body with his best punching buddy is pretty hot.(This is OOOT's backstory for "Beta-universe." The specific events of AEMH form the backdrop of this universe, but for character development influences I've filled in my own mishmash of MCU and 616 details.)





	1. Future's Comin' Much Too Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is narrated by a different character and can mostly be read in any order.  
> I cover a lot of episodes of the show, if my universe's version of an event is mostly unchanged from how it happened in the show I will be summarizing or skipping that particular event. I hope this doesn’t get confusing.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony forms the Avengers and helps Steve adjust to life in the 21st century.

**Location:** Universe MS, Designation: Beta  
New York  
_(8 months pre-anomaly)_

Apparently SHIELD thought that keeping massive amounts of supervillains locked up together in strategic prisons was a rocking plan, and hey, Tony had consulted with Hank on some of the layouts, so it wasn't like SHIELD wasn't outsourcing what they knew they couldn't handle on their own. In fact, it seems like they're _always_ after Tony to commit to joining their company line, but Fury can't stop being the _most_ annoying shit- with the possible exception of Maria Hill- so that's not going to be happening this side of Armageddon.

And so while SHIELD had obviously been giving it the old college try, it's not really a surprise when it all blows up in their face and there are supervillains pouring out of all the cracks and tearing up the streets. Including SHIELD's own little dark secret: Franklin Hall. It's only by the sheerest chance that there are enough people on hand to take down Graviton; the sheerest chance that Hulk shows up on their side, that there's an alien demigod visiting town, that Hank Pym is a crazy genius whose girlfriend has the patience of a saint. This needs to be something more than chance. Fury may be annoying, but at least he's legit, and he's right about this. There needs to be a response team.

So Tony puts the team together. It's obvious really. If SHIELD can't keep their unmentionables unmentioned then they are clearly not the ones that need to be handling this. There needs to be an independent contractor. Tony has the resources, and he's already neck deep in the game. He can give the team a place to stay, transportation to get them where they need to go, and shiny toys to play with.

It's so obvious. Does it take a genius to see these things? And even with the rocky bits it's not going _so_ bad.

Really.

 

And that's when they do it. The one thing his father could never do. They find Captain America.

So, yeah it's kind of all because of The Enchantress messing with their heads, and Hulk deciding he needed to take an arctic sabbatical, but that's okay because wow.

Captain America.

Who of course thinks they're all Hydra agents. But once they get that straightened out, Rogers helps them put the kibosh on AIM.

Steve Rogers may not know anything about the world he's been dragged into, but he's a good man. He fits in with the team more easily than Tony would have expected, given what an insane band of misfits they are, though there's a part of him that seems distant and sad all the time. At first it seems appropriate to give him space, let him mourn the life he left and find his feet.

When it comes to the team, Tony feeling like he's only barely holding this collection of unbalanced and powerful personalities together is something that is relatively common, though he doesn’t let himself worry about it too much. Usually. When Black Panther recruits them to help him retake his throne and then thoroughly disregards Tony's advice, Tony can't not take it personally. It grates, a lot; Rogers' easy acceptance of Tony's leadership is a balm, even in the face of Hank's skepticism. And that's sort of the start. Though it also isn't really for a reason.

 

Yeah, Tony's been nursing a crush on Captain America since he was twelve, but Tony can also see the guy is having some trouble adjusting. Rogers has been with the team for a few weeks and JARVIS reports that he's still down in the training hall almost every night, beating the hell out of Tony's equipment instead of sleeping. Tony has this thought that maybe if he just gives Rogers something to _do_ , something to focus on, it'll help. Something that isn't tearing the shit out of the training room every night, because that doesn't seem to be doing the trick.

So, Tony makes the offer- invites Rogers into his workspace to hang out. He catches Rogers sneaking down to the training room at three am, and Tony just barges out into the hallway. "There you are," he says, like he was looking for Rogers, and Rogers jumps a little, giving Tony a suspicious look. "Come with me," Tony offers. "Unless I'm interrupting something." And Rogers comes.

Tony reasons it's just to have that illusion of human contact, because Hank is getting more and more cagey about the whole idea of being an Avenger and the armory is weirdly empty without their bickering. But Tony finds himself giving the Captain things to do, things DUM-E or U usually help him with, and talking to him like he cares about what Tony is doing. Tony was sure he was going to regret it, but surprisingly enough, having the Captain in his lab isn't anything like having a bull in a china shop. Rogers moves carefully, and he listens, and he _pays attention, thank you very much_ , and after a while he becomes just Steve.

Tony is kind of... fascinated by Steve, on a level that has nothing to do with younger him designing a better flashlight so he can read comics all night without getting caught. Steve's so resistant to technology, and yet he has some of the most innovative ideas when they are caught up in battle. He has the uncanniest way of drawing Tony out until he falls on his face, and yet he's always the first one to speak up and encourage Tony to believe that he can find the answers.

It's the last one that really gets him. Tony is aware enough to know that he gets tunnel vision some times. It's worse when he gets stuck on something he can't fix. It eats at him, and he can't leave it alone, his mind beating away at the problem until he's so caught in it that it consumes him.

 

Of course, when the Captain turns into Steve is about when Tony's latent crush comes back full force. It's daunting in a way that Tony finds unfamiliar, because Steve... he's perfect, so fucking perfect, and Tony can't stand it sometimes. Steve follows Tony's lead, even when it isn't the best call, but he isn't afraid to call Tony out when he isn't being the leader Steve thinks he should be. Tony may have put the team together, but he knows that he's not always the best at remembering to care that other people have opinions and things that are important to them. When Clint needs someone to back him up tracking down Hydra, it's Steve and T'Challa who give him that. When Kang starts taking over the world, it's Steve who recognizes that T'Challa has a kingdom that needs him; all Tony can do is offer him transportation. It's humbling to be reminded that he's not as good at this as he should be for the guy in charge, but it's also far more comforting than it should be to have Steve there to catch all the things he misses.

 

So Steve starts training Tony in hand to hand combat, which Tony wants to be really annoyed about but the chance to get his hands on Steve is kind of hypnotically luring. Not that he _does_ at first, because Steve can wipe the floor with him. It makes him annoyed enough to want to just call his suit, and some of his other toys, and have them just kick the whole team's _ass_ , because Tony doesn't have to be able to punch someone in the face to contribute to this team. But Tony's also competitive, and he digs his heels in and decides that he's going to _do_ this, he is going to get so good he is going to impress Steve with his ability to punch people in the face.

It isn't until later, afterward, that Tony thinks that this is maybe part of the Captain America shtick, his ability to inspire men to want to give more of themselves. It works really well, he has to admit.

Not that he would admit it to Steve.

 

 

They're in the armory, talking, when a man appears, as if through the wall. He calls himself Kang, and he wants to kill Steve.

How the fuck someone managed to appear _inside_ his mansion is something that apparently is going to have to wait. This guy claims to be from the future, and he is kicking their collective asses.

The irony is crippling.  Just this morning Steve asked him what a futurist was, and now Tony can't get a handle on this futuristic invader's technology.

It's Steve who grounds him. Steve doesn't give up, doesn't let the ineffectiveness of his punches phase him, he just keeps punching.

The team arrives, and Kang is pretty unstoppable. He shows them the future, he knows about the Kree, claims an alien war will destroy the sun.

And Kang decides he's going to take over the world to stop it. Sure, he gives them the option of handing over Captain America instead, who apparently is responsible for blowing up the sun- like Tony believes that.

Steve seems to accept his own fate, but he leaves it to Tony to decide how they're going to fight for the fate of the world.

It's not like they were _actually_ going to let Kang take Cap. So it's not really a question. But Cap's deferment reminds Tony why he loves this man even when he's being infuriating. And it's Steve who organizes them in a battle that they can't win, until they _do_. And it all hangs on Tony's ability to learn the future.

That's... Such faith in him, from a man who doesn't even believe in the future. It's...

It's enough. To let him find the way in.

They take down Kang, but Kang manages to flee before they can completely take him out.

 

Knowing that Kang'll be back isn't the problem. It's living with how close he came to failing. It wasn't even that Steve would be dead, that the world would be living under Kang's thumb, but that _Tony_ would be the one who failed him- the futurist defeated by the future. But Steve's faith in him was stronger than Tony's doubt.

Tony finds himself in his armory after it's all over. His fingers are trembling as it sinks in and he holds the suit's helmet in his hand. And he throws it against the wall, pulling the rest of the suit from himself and sending it crashing in pieces into tables and falling to the floor. He hears JARVIS saying something but it sounds distant and his ears can't focus on the sound.

It's Steve's hands on his shoulders that pulls him around, pulls him out of his fugue, and he reaches for Steve, his hand finding Steve's shoulder in turn. "I thought he was going to kill you," he says. "I couldn't stop him, I wasn't fast enough, I-"

But Steve cuts him off and shakes him slightly, and there is something burning in Steve's eyes. "You did it, Tony. You learned his tech." Steve's voice is firm and so resolute it's practically challenging the world to disagree so Captain America can punch it in the face. "You saved us, Tony." And Tony thinks he must be dreaming, because then Steve is smiling softly, and he says, "I knew you would."

Tony takes Steve's face in his hands, and he's kissing Steve. There's not much thought behind it. He's Tony Stark; he sees something he likes and he takes it. It's not until he doesn't feel Steve responding that he leans back and his brain catches up and he says, "Shit, Steve, I'm sorry." He wants to say more, but he's wanted this so badly for so long, and in so many ways, so he kisses Steve again. He means this one as a farewell to his own desires, to their friendship because this is probably going to freak Steve out, but suddenly Steve is kissing him back, Steve's arms hard and tight around him and Steve's lips hot and demanding against his.

Tony doesn't want to ask questions, but there's a point where he has to break away and just stare at Steve. "You," he says, dazed, not sure where the sentence is going, if it's actually going anywhere because that word seems to contain everything that needs to be said in this moment.

"I'd rather kiss you again than talk about it just now," Steve replies, and Tony can live with that. They are crowded up against a table, and Tony is practically sitting in Steve's lap, licking into his mouth, and he feels Steve moan, feels the answering press of Steve's hard cock against his thigh.

It still almost feels like a dream, and Tony makes short work of them, his fingers pulling their cocks together. He knows how to draw pleasure from flesh, and Steve is gasping and moaning under his lips. Steve's hand is surprisingly right there with Tony's, curled around their cocks. It's so fucking beautiful, and Tony thinks he could die happy, even if it is a dream.

They fall asleep entangled and Steve's still there when Tony wakes, and it starts to actually sink in. They are pressed together facing each other on the futon in the back corner of the armory. "Shit," Tony says. "You're real." His fingers dance over the planes of Steve's face and Steve smiles at him, his expression eager.

At some point they move up to Tony's room. Via the kitchen, because apparently you can't keep a hyperactive metabolism running without feeding it. It's late morning, and the bright, airy room is empty. Tony's not hungry, but he doesn't want to let Steve out of his sight, even if seeing him drink his usual mess of raw eggs goes a good way toward proving this isn't a dream.

Tony makes a face. "That's really not doing anything to help there be kissing in your future."

Steve smirks at him, leans over the counter and kisses him. Tony doesn't even want to pull back, and Steve tastes amazing, even if there is a slight sliminess to his tongue that is evidentially attributable to the eggs. They make it up to his bedroom, eventually.

Steve presses him up against the back of the door to the bedroom, and Tony lets his hands fall to Steve's hips, slipping under clothing to cup Steve's ass. Steve makes a noise against Tony's lips that Tony is going to interpret as _amused_. Steve's hands are pressed to the door to either side of Tony, but he slides one down to Tony's hip to toy with the waist of his sweatpants in a hesitant mirror of Tony's action.

Tony grins. "Go for it, Cap," he murmurs, leaning in to follow the line of Steve's jaw back to press his nose into the juncture of jaw and neck. Steve shudders against him, and his other hand curls around Tony's shoulder, pulling him closer.

Tony pushes Steve back toward the bed, and kneels before him, pressing kisses to the hard plane of his abdomen, circling his belly button, and looking up for permission before he uses the lower angle of his hands to pull the sweatpants down to Steve's thighs.

It's not a new sight after last night, but Tony pauses to admire, a soft murmur of delight in his throat. Steve is blushing, and his hand comes to cup the back of Tony's head as Tony leans in to trail kisses further down, reverently placing them along the seam of Steve's hip before switching to the other side, and only then turning his attention to the swelling flesh in between. Tony hums, and takes the head between his lips.

Steve gasps, his fingers tightening slightly in Tony's hair, and he says, voice breathy with wonder, "Tony."

Tony pulls back to look up at him. "Too much?"

"No, I..." Steve swallows. "You don't have to."

"Steve." Tony presses another reverent kiss to Steve's abdomen just above his groin. "I _want_ to. A lot." He looks up.

Steve nods.

"You're standing next to it so we might as well use the bed." Tony pulls Steve's sweatpants the rest of the way down, and shucks his own as he stands and pushes Steve back toward the bed.

Steve sinks on the plush surface and leans back. Tony catches one of his legs and buries his nose in the hair on Steve's shin before kissing the knobby bone that juts out at his ankle. Steve blushes, and looks hungry as he reaches out and pulls Tony to him, claiming his lips again. He turns them, pulling Tony against him and pressing him to the bed.

Tony laughs softly and throws a leg up around Steve's hip. Steve's kissing his way down Tony's throat, and Tony's about to make some sort of commentary when Steve's lips land on the arc reactor, right along the edge where the scar tissue is the worst. Tony opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He must have tensed or something because Steve pulls back and looks at him worriedly.

It's not that it feels strange, though it kind of does, or that Steve's never touched it before, because Tony distinctly remembers Steve's fingers coming in contact with it last night, but the careful reverence Steve placed in the gesture just now, the slow, firm pressure of his lips, took him by surprise. Like a recurring nightmare Tony can see grasping fingers reaching out to _take_ , to steal the mechanics of his heart and leave him broken and dying on the floor- and then there's Steve, sealing it into his flesh with a kiss like a promise.

"Tony?" Steve's left hand is cupping the back of his head, his right touching Tony's cheek, and Steve is saying Tony's name with a slightly frantic air that suggests this isn't the first time he's said it.

Tony reaches, and his hand closes around Steve's wrist. "Yeah," he says, because he needs to respond.

Steve sighs, his left hand relaxing and starting to brush softly through Tony's hair. "Are you okay?" His eyes are serious and heavy, scanning Tony's face.

"Yeah," Tony says again. But repetitiveness is also worrisome, so he tries again. "I'm okay. Just..." He swallows.

"I'm sorry," Steve says. He looks particularly hangdog. "I won't do that again."

"No." Tony takes Steve's right hand, still caught in his grip, and pulls it to his chest. "It's okay." Steve is hesitant, but under Tony's direction he allows his fingers to spread over the reactor housing. They sit like that for a few moments, Tony's hand over Steve's, holding the arc reactor firmly where it needs to be. Stealing a glance at Tony's face to gauge the sincerity of his declaration, Steve leans down to kiss the reactor again.

Tony takes a deep breath. He smiles at Steve. "It's okay," he says again. "I'm just... Usually... Not a lot of people..." But he's a little too raw to look for other words to finish any of those thoughts, and he shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to Steve's. "It's okay."

Steve's gaze is soft and warm on him, and Steve says, "Okay," with a small smile that seems to say that everything _is_ okay.

That's a bit too much of _that_ , and Tony pushes over slightly, pressing the length of his body against Steve's. "Weren't we in the middle of something?"

Steve huffs in amusement, and his hands skim down Tony's sides to meet under the curve of his ass and pull Tony up hard against him. Tony can feel that both of them have flagged somewhat over the past few minutes, but interest returns as Tony presses down eagerly against Steve. Steve lets one hand fall between their bodies to pull their cocks together and stroke them, similar to last night.

Tony grins. "You're a quick study, Cap. But come on, let me show you something." He wriggles out of Steve's hold and down to lie comfortably between Steve's legs, one hand stroking the inside of Steve's thigh as he exhales slowly against the sensitive flesh of Steve's cock.

Steve shudders, eyes closed, his hands falling to the bedding and clutching handfuls of the sheets. "Tony," he says, helpless and demanding, and Tony can feel the tension under his fingers as he strokes the inside of his thigh.

"I've got you." Tony says softly. "No worries." And he spreads his jaw and swallows Steve down.

Steve jerks and gasps, the motion pressing him more firmly down Tony's throat, and Tony wants to grin, but he's a little busy as he works his mouth up and down the length of flesh. Steve is breathing quick, shallow breaths, and he's staring down at Tony like he's never seen anything so amazing. It's not an unfamiliar look as far as Tony is concerned, both in bed and outside of it, but it feels more meaningful coming from Steve.

"My God, Tony, I... Does it always... Ungh..."

Tony pulls back until he has just the head of Steve's cock between his lips, and his tongue dances across the sensitive underside for a moment before he switches to the slit at the tip, pressing into it.

"Tony!" It's more strangled this time, and Steve's hands have torn the sheets in shreds and are looking for something more solid to grip. Tony slides his other hand to Steve's other thigh and presses slightly, urging them further apart. Steve responds instantly, spreading his legs wider, and Tony is really glad his mouth is busy because if it wasn't he would absolutely say something that would embarrass the hell out of Steve right now- but it couldn't be helped, because Steve is so beautiful, so wrecked, flushed dark from his face all down his chest, that chest rising and falling faster than usual with rapid breaths, chest and abdomen flecked with sweat, and his eyes are dark and blown as he looks down at Tony, his mouth parted slightly.

Tony groans, and he sinks back down on Steve's cock, letting it fill his throat. God he's wanted this, and it's even better than he'd dreamed, because he'd never dreamed a taste to Steve, or a scent. His hands have moved to stroking Steve's perineum and cupping his sac, and Steve is making rhythmic, choking noises above him that are probably supposed to be words as he thrusts into the heat of Tony's mouth, the muscles in his thighs trembling. Tony pulls back slightly, waiting, and it's not long before Steve comes, shuddering, the taste of him filling Tony's mouth.

Steve falls back to the bed, body shaking with the force of his pulse and his breathing as it slowly returns to baseline. Tony swallows and moans softly, "God, you're amazing."

Steve twitches to look at him, and he's grinning softly. "I think that's my line." He shakes his head and looks away. "I've never..." He stops, and Tony's pretty sure he'd be blushing if the blood wasn't already pounding under his skin.

"I figured." Tony leans over him to steal a quick kiss. Steve likes the taste of him so much he returns for a second, more thorough, exploration.

"You did?" Steve asks belatedly. "How?" His expression is skeptical.

Tony grins. "Steve, you're amazingly responsive, and you're a quick study. When you know what you're doing, this is going to be so awesome it'll completely blow your mind."

Steve regards him levelly, then glances down. "Is that so? I suppose there's no time like the present to get started." He telegraphs the move just enough that Tony knows it's coming, but who in their right mind would want to avoid Steve Rogers flipping them to the bed and bending down to bury his face in their groin?

Tony moans in appreciation, and his fingers are stroking through Steve's hair in encouragement. Steve nuzzles him for a few moments before he shifts and raises his hand to wrap it firmly around Tony's cock. He looks up at Tony from under eyelashes.

"You don't have to," Tony says. His eyes are burning with desire, but his tone is casual. "Don't feel like you have to. I've got more ideas, trust me."

Steve seems to take that and think about it for a moment, his gaze going distant. But his eyes snap back to meet Tony's, and they are sharp with determination that makes Tony shiver. Steve's hand guides Tony's cock to his mouth.

Tony groans at the feel of Steve's hot breath on that most sensitive of skin, but while he wants to just get lost in the pleasure of fucking that hot mouth, he makes himself pay close attention because he's teaching here, too. Not that Steve needs much correction. His lips stretch around the head of Tony's cock, and even knowing how quickly Steve's picked up everything so far Tony is impressed by the way Steve only fumbles once with his teeth. He overestimates his gag reflex and chokes a little when Tony thrusts, but even when Steve flushes in embarrassment Tony has nothing but praise for him.

"You're amazing, shit, Steve, yeah, you can swirl your tongue around a bit. _Shit_ , goddamn Steve." And Tony's hand falls to Steve's shoulder, because he's pretty sure he's pulling too hard on his hair. Tony is panting and flushed, and while it's not the best blow job he's ever had, Steve's intensity pushes back against Tony's arousal, likes waves in a reflector.

Tony strokes his hand along Steve's cheek and shudders. "I'm so close... I'm gonna come, Steve. Pull back."

Steve glares at him stubbornly and tries to fit more of Tony's cock down his throat. The passage of his throat is so tight, and Tony groans, his fingers gripping Steve's shoulder as he fucks up into his mouth. He comes like a cascade, everything perfect about this moment breaking over him at once.

Steve coughs and gags for a moment, and has to pull back. He looks annoyed with himself and he has come on his cheek, and dripping from his chin. Tony groans. "Fuck, look at you." Steve looks slightly embarrassed, but Tony pulls him close and licks his cheek before he kisses him. Tony has tasted himself on other's lips before, but by god he and Steve together tastes _so fucking good_.

 

 

So that happened, and it wasn't a dream. Tony feels... light, still. Even when he's talking with Hank, going over the data he gathered from Kang, it's like Steve is always hovering in the back of his mind, and when Steve does walk into the room Tony's attention immediately includes him.  Tony doesn't want to lose this.

Though maybe it is all a dream, unable to last, because Kang comes back.

Tony knew he would. The future is always waiting after all.

Kang's forces are invading, and Tony can't find him. Kang himself is nowhere- the mastermind behind this invasion, the man from the future isn't anywhere on the earth.

So, of course he's above it. In his starship.

Which is theirs now.

And after they're finally done with Kang _again_ , crazy futuristic overlord all locked up in 42, it feels like the ending of something more.

Tony goes back to his room. He took off the suit in the armory, but he couldn't stay there, the memory of Steve everywhere. But Steve is everywhere here, too, the sheets still smell like him, and If Tony closes his eyes he can almost pretend that he hears Steve breathing, that slight hitch he got when Tony knelt between his knees and took him in his mouth.

But it was a one-time thing, definitely, not going to last, so it's better if he doesn't think about it _at all_ , doesn't want it as badly as he does, doesn't try to make it more.

There's a knock at his door and Tony answers it almost woodenly. It's Steve. He's dressed all casual and looking somewhat sheepish, and Tony's pulse is pounding in his veins and he can't even think about why. "What do you want?"

It comes out a little more accusatory than he intended, but Steve doesn't seem to take it badly at all. He's looking at Tony, staring into him, his gaze never wavering. "You," is his response.

Tony feels his heart shudder, actually it's his whole body, he's shaking, and he grips the door more firmly because he might fall over and that _not_ happening would be better.

Steve steps closer. "How are you doing?" He sounds concerned, but in his usual post-mission-check-on-everyone-does-it-say-captain-on-my-uniform kind of way.

Tony relaxes; regular post-mission-Steve he can deal with. That's fine. It's not tearing a hole inside of him, no need to worry. "Fine," Tony says. He smiles.

Steve is watching him like he's not buying it. He moves in closer. He moves slowly, and his overall less intense posture has Tony relenting to him and they are inside his room now. Steve's hand comes up and cups Tony's cheek; he feels himself shuddering again.

Steve feels it too, and he looks worried now. "Tony, what's wrong?" He has one hand wrapped around Tony's bicep, the other pressed against his forehead as if Tony might be feverish.

Tony really wants to break away, but he also really _doesn't_ , and so he stands there is a sort of limbo. He'll do it, he'll break it off, but let Steve make the next move first.

"Tony," Steve says again, and Tony realizes that he still hasn't answered Steve's question.

"I'm fine," he repeats. "Just tired."

Steve nods but still looks skeptical. "Okay," he allows. "We should get some rest."

Tony makes a sound of agreement in his throat. He's a little caught on the _we_ , because what the fuck, but he was thinking about crashing anyway, and he doesn't want to have to deal with Steve right now. "So I'll see you later."

Steve is still standing just inside the door of Tony's room. Tony figures he'll turn around and leave. But he doesn't. He looks kind of torn, but he says softly, "Do you mind if I stay?"

Tony can't answer that. Because he really really doesn't mind, but he also really really does. So he just lets his mouth run with it. "Oh yeah, Cap, supervised naptime. I like it. Is this a new team activity? Because I don't think Hulk'll be thrilled. You can explain it to him, and I'll watch, how about that?"

Steve's fingers rest softly against Tony's lips, and Tony shudders again. "Not the team. Just you." He's watching Tony carefully. "I'll go if you want me to, just say the word. But I'm not done if you're not." His hand turns and his fingers brush against Tony's cheek.

And that's it. Tony's not a saint, never claimed to be, and this is going to hurt, _so_ much worse than anything he can even imagine, but he _wants_ it so much. "Stay," he says. And he leans in, his lips seeking Steve's.

Steve is warm and hard against him, and Tony realizes he's still shivering because Steve's arms come up around him, his impossibly warm hands spread over Tony's shoulder blades, and Tony relaxes, basking in the warmth of the embrace. Steve is making soft, pleased noises as Tony's lips trace lines down his throat, and he shivers in his own turn.

Tony pulls away. "So, naptime?" And this time there's a glint of humor underneath the words.

Steve grins. "If that's what you want," he says honestly, and Tony growls a little, Steve laughing as Tony grabs hold of his shoulder and throws him toward the bed.

Steve hits the mattress with a soft thump, and Tony's on him, his hands cupped around Steve's face and holding him close as they kiss again. For someone who claims to not have experience, Steve kisses like he was born to it. He's so whole-hearted about everything he does, it probably shouldn't be surprising. But Tony sits down a little more firmly where he's straddling Steve's lap, and Steve gasps, his body going rigid. He breaks off the kiss to gasp for breath. "Tony," he says, and it's full of _want_.

Tony likes that, and he can match it, not a problem. "You were saying something about not being done. Babe, we've barely _started_."

Steve's eyes flare with desire, and Tony could almost believe that this, unlike everything else in his life, will last. He's tracing the outline of Steve's erection through his jeans, Steve panting, his hips jerking up against Tony helplessly. He buries his hands in the sheets beneath him as if seeking ground. "Tony. I..."

Tony kisses Steve's cheek softly. "What're you in the market for, soldier? I think we covered oral last time, though practice makes perfect. And we haven't even touched on everything I can do with just my hands."

Steve kisses him back softly, his eyes meeting Tony's. "I want you inside me." The request is spoken in an undertone, and he blushes, uncertain.

Tony stills. "Is that what you really want? Cause it's okay if it is, and it's okay if it isn't. We don't have to."

Steve nods. "I want to do everything, Tony. I want to feel everything, with you. And I want that. I don't want to wait. I've already waited."

Tony nods. "Okay." he inhales a deep breath and smacks Steve's hip. "Get those off, and lie on your stomach for a bit." He eases off Steve and gathers some supplies.

He turns back to the bed to find Steve laid out like he'd asked; he flushes when he realizes that Tony is watching him and ducks his head. "You are amazing," Tony says. He slides back onto the bed and straddles Steve's prone body. "I mean, yeah, like, perfect physical specimen, but you're so..." He draws Steve's face around to his. "Right." They kiss, Steve's eyes falling shut as he savors.

Steve's eyes flutter open to watch as Tony pops the top on the lube. He pours some into his hand to warm it before he leans in to spread it along the crack of Steve's ass. Steve tenses involuntarily, but Tony expected it and his hands are softly kneading the flesh of Steve's ass while he presses kisses to the line of Steve's spine and over his shoulders. Tony is leaned up, his lips under Steve's ear, when he slips the first finger inside. Steve inhales sharply, his body going tense from the intrusion.

Tony lets it lie for a few breaths before he kisses Steve's neck softly. "You okay?" He works the finger deeper.

"Yeah." There's an odd quality to Steve's voice. "It's... not how I expected."

Tony laughs softly. "You think about this a lot?" He can tell Steve's embarrassed by the way his shoulders hunch. "Hey." Tony nips his shoulder playfully and Steve turns to look at him. His face is red, and Tony works the finger in and out, slipping the second one in when they're like this, so he can see Steve's face.

The look on Steve's face is really indescribable, and Tony kisses him. "I'm honored," he says seriously. "That you chose me. You know Cap, you could get just about any person on the planet that you wanted to come and stick their fingers in your ass." And even when he's being serious, Tony can't help teasing. But Steve seems to be getting him, because he leans over and kisses Tony fiercely. Steve shivers as Tony works his two fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch the opening, and he slides the third one in with just as little warning. Steve inhales deeply on that one again, and presses his forehead against the mattress.

"Hey, you okay?" Tony asks, but Steve spreads his legs slightly, his ass rising to push back at Tony's fingers, and grunts demandingly. Tony obliges him by pressing his fingers in more deeply, and crooking them forward.

And Steve jerks against him with a gasp, thrusting back against Tony almost violently. Tony laughs softly and withdraws his fingers, reaching for the lube again.

"Tony?" Steve says dazedly, sounding a little lost.

Tony leans in to kiss him. "Wanna turn over?"

Steve's voice is so guttural it's little more than a growl as he answers, "I want you to fuck me. _Tony_ , please."

Tony kisses his temple. "Language," he chides. But he's already got the condom in his hand, tearing it open and rolling it on as he kneels, his hands on Steve's ass, one finger tracing the rim of Steve's opening as he squirts more lube inside. Steve groans in want, and Tony lines himself up, pressing the head of his cock into Steve's opening.

Steve goes rigid for a moment, his breath coming shallow and his eyes pressed shut.

Tony rubs his shoulder gently. "Give it a moment," he says, though he's not sure if he's talking to Steve or to himself, his forehead pressed to the ridge of Steve's spine, his own breathing harsh and forcefully controlled.

Steve shudders, and untenses all his muscles; Tony would bet money he does it by sheer force of will. "Tony," he demands, "Whatever that was before. Do it again."

Tony closes his eyes. That tone of voice... He's pretty sure Steve's a virgin in this as well so he has no reference that this is going to end up feeling amazing, other than his faith in _Tony_ , and it's heady, so heady. "It's going to be amazing," Tony promises. He slides in all the way, savoring the feel of Steve around him. He gives it a moment, then pulls out to immediately push back in again slowly. Steve shivers under him, and Tony pets a hand through his hair. "You okay?"

"Do it again," Steve demands.

Tony laughs against the warmth of Steve's neck. "Pushy," he murmurs, but he's doing it, moving, slowly, and he shifts a bit, and suddenly Steve makes a strangled sound.

"Tony," Steve moans, his hands fisted, his face lax in pleasure, and Tony grins and fucks him harder.

Steve is lost to pleasure but he's still Steve and he reaches back to cup his hand around Tony's cheek when Tony pauses and kisses his shoulder. "Tony," he shivers, "I want to touch you. I can't..."

"Right away, _mon capitan_." He pulls out, and he's not sure if Steve's disgruntled noise is for that or the nickname.

Tony gets them rearranged so that they're face to face, and Steve's blown pupils are fixed on him as Steve's fingers trace the line of his jaw and Steve's breath catches the slightest bit as Tony slides his way in. "Tony," Steve says, his voice soft with wonder.

Tony kisses him. "Come on, Steve. We're not done yet." He grins.

And if his moans so far hadn't been an indication, Steve is not quiet about his pleasure. Tony loves it; he rather expected the shadow of illegality that Steve had grown up with, that had kept him from seeking this with anyone before, would continue to shroud him in silence, instead of having him screaming Tony's name to the rafters.

Afterward, Tony cleans them up and they curl together for a while, kissing. Steve is lazy and sated, and Tony could stay in his arms for a while yet. But the long day catches them up and they fall asleep.

 

 

All in all, waking up with Steve is not a bad way to wake up. In between bouts of saving the world, it's something Tony could get used to. Not that they spend every night together, or that either of them even makes it to a bed every night what with the periodic reoccurrence of nightmares and the occasional all-night engineering binge, but it is a pleasant feeling.

Needless to say, this particular morning was _not_ one of the mornings Tony woke with the warmth and heavy pressure of Steve wrapped around him, so the day was already off to a poor start. Then, Tony spent the _entire_ day arguing with Thor. Which could even have been kind of fun, if some elf didn't open a crazy making box of icy winter on Tony's planet, and if T'Challa didn't ruin everything by completely disproving the point that _magic is stupid_. But they work together and stop eternal ice winter from happening, so that's a plus.

Steve's not exactly a fan of magic either, so he's a sympathetic ear the next time Tony gets him alone. And that's not the only part of him that's sympathetic.

If it wasn't for Hydra and goddamn cosmic cubes dragging Steve from bed, Tony could have spent another good day lazily waking up in his lover's arms.

 

That's not entirely fair, because the whole team was down in the training hall taking bets on Hawkeye completely blowing an impossible shot, so it's not like they were still laying around when a series of EMPs knocks out the Mansion's power. Come to think of it, it might have been less painful if they were. But it's not like they would have stayed there. The city needs saving.

They just need to hijack a Cosmic Cube before AIM makes a pass, or Hydra an intercept. That's according to Black Widow, who, last time he checked, was supposed to be a Hydra spy. But apparently Hawkeye buys her story about being undercover, and it's not like it's possible to _ignore_ the fact that Hydra and AIM are shooting at each other in the streets.

If anyone could ignore it, trust Maria Hill to be the SHIELD director to try it. She's been after Tony before, about getting the Avengers registered with SHIELD, and he'd _love_ to have _that_ conversation _again_ , if this wasn't the worst timing _ever_ on her part.

Catching AIM, _and_ Hydra, and making sure the whole Cosmic Cube idea _doesn't_ get the world taken over by Nazis- seriously though, how was that _supposed_ to work?- is enough to get Hill off their backs for the moment, though it doesn't help that Widow vanishes rather than turn herself in like she'd promised she would.

"Where is she?" Hill demands.

"Where's Nick Fury?" is the only thing Hawkeye will say in response. And that's a question Tony would like an answer to as well, so he's kind of on Barton's side in this.

Afterward, Steve's kind of quiet. They finally stopped Hydra, which Steve _says_ he's glad about, but there's something about him that seems to be more in the past than the present at the moment.

The past is not an area that Tony likes to visit. He and Steve had the "you knew my dad" conversation already, and Tony's not looking to have any sort of encore, so he leaves Steve to his own devices and heads down to the armory. He's mending the reflective panels on the stealth armor when he looks up and, from the corner of his eyes, notices that Steve is sitting in his usual place, sketchbook in hand.

Tony cracks his neck and leans back; it's gotta be at least four AM. "Couldn't sleep?" he asks.

Steve looks up, the soft scratching of the pencil stopping, a sound Tony only consciously hears now that it's absent.  "Yeah." Steve looks worried for a moment. "Is this okay?"

Tony frowns. "Of course."

Steve smiles, an easy, warm expression, but his face grows pensive again as he speaks. "I... I know the Cube didn't work, but I feel like it did. Like something changed. Something I can't see, yet. I just thought I'd make sure it wasn't something between us." He looks down at his sketchbook.

Tony stands, taking a moment to stretch and crack all the joints along his spine. He walks over to kiss Steve, full and hard, tongue seeking entrance. He pulls away after a moment. "Is that different from how it was before?"

"No," Steve breaths, leaning in. He licks his lips. "But you should do it again, just to make sure."

Tony grins. "Aye, aye, _mon capitan_."

 

 

Tony loves Jan, but she's not the most observant. Tony for damn sure knew that the only reason Hank ever cared about the Avengers was Jan. Hank likes the idea of ending crime and rehabilitating criminals, but definitely in a more controlled setting.

So when Hank decides to quit the team, Tony's not really surprised and he's not really concerned. Honestly, the fact that _Thor_ asked him for _help_ of a _technological_ nature is really what's central in his attention at the moment. Hank Pym's dissonance of vocation and personality barely even registers.

Turns out, maybe Tony should have been paying more attention to that, because Hank's dissonance doesn't extend just to Hank.

It extends to Ultron.

For something that was never designed to be a weapon, Ultron is a spot-on killer. There've been injuries of course, Hawkeye's arm only the most recent incidence, but the team has never actually lost someone before. Tony would never have thought that it would be Thor they would lose first. Not an hour ago the man was asking Tony for help; he just wanted to go home. And now he's dead.

Thank god Hulk comes back, just itching to smash the ever-loving fuck out of something, and Ultron apparently knew from the first that he wasn't a match for Hulk- he'd tried to eliminate Hulk from the equation- but Hulk tears him open like a piñata and Hank pulls out his power core, ending Ultron at last.

They take Steve to the hospital. Tony's a little freaked, because Thor is dead and Cap is seriously next on the list. Tony doesn't think he can handle that, and maybe he's hovering a little too much, because T'Challa appears, out of _nowhere_ , and sends Tony back to the mansion almost before Tony can even comprehend what's happened. So Tony goes home, and he's freaking out so he finds Hank and hovers over him until they atomize every last bit of Ultron. There is no way that fucker is coming back.

He should stop thinking things like that.

Because Ultron comes back.

He's using Tony's armors against them, which has Tony gritting his teeth, and he's trying to cut them off at the mansion while also attacking the SHIELD helicarrier. It's Barton's idea to send half the group to the helicarrier to assist SHIELD; Tony didn't want to be the one to say it, but SHIELD and the massive amount of missiles they control does seem like a more important front than the Mansion. It doesn't make it feel any less like leaving his teammates to be slaughtered in his own house with his _own goddamn technology_ even if they're willing, but Tony takes Wasp and Hulk to back up Hill. Fat lot of help they are, Ultron sucking the green right out of Hulk like it's a regular Tuesday occurrence, and tearing through the armor like titanium alloy has the same consistency as tissue paper.

It's a damn good thing that Thor wasn't really dead. Because the planet might be dead at the moment if he hadn't shown back up; Hawkeye and Panther definitely would be, and the rest of the world only moments behind, at the wrong end of a battalion of SHIELD missiles.

And it's a damn good thing Hank speaks robot, because convincing Ultron his own existence is illogical is the only way to stop him.

Afterward, Thor has some unpleasant information to share about how in Amora's opinion chilling on earth is about on par with sky diving into a volcano, so that's cheerful after everything else.

Tony sneaks back into the hospital. Really, their security isn't that great, though if he wasn't a genius inventor the keycard access doors might have given him more trouble, and if he wasn't a famous billionaire the guards would have been more interested in not letting him pass.

Steve is looking worse- the bruises are purple and fading green already- which actually means he's doing better. He grimaces as he tries to move his arm and Tony waves him back to his reclined position.

"How's the team?" Steve asks immediately.

"Good news, apparently Thor isn't dead."

Steve's smile breaks wide on his face. "That's good to hear!" His hand enfolds Tony's, their fingers intertwining. "He's alright?"

"Yeah, his magical stalker girlfriend pulled him aside for a chat at the exact time he was supposed to be getting vaporized. He turned the tide for us, and Hank put the final kibosh on Ultron."

"Wait." Steve is frowning. "Tearing out the power core didn't finish him?"

So Tony has to go over the entire rematch boss battle, though he can only gloss over the parts he wasn't present for- he hasn't had a chance to get a detailed blow by blow from Barton or T'Challa. Steve fades out on him a time or two so it takes most of the night, but Tony's okay with that. When Steve needs to sleep, Tony sits by his bed, Tony's fingers reassuringly tracing equations into the palms of Steve's hands, or pulling out his Starkphone to receive feeds from the mansion, where he can see Thor, Jane, and Jan relaxing in the media room, and JARVIS reports that T'Challa, Barton, and Banner are safe in their quarters. He's never thought before about being responsible for other people. Yeah, things would usually be worse if they _didn't_ stop whatever was happening, but that stopping could result in someone he knows getting killed. It makes it more... real to Tony, because Steve could have _died_ , and he's upset by how much that upsets him because he's pretty sure Steve is one of those people who holds every life as equally precious and Steve shouldn't be more important to him than everyone else. But he is.

 

They have a few weeks of quiet, but then Thor's stalker's prediction comes true, and suddenly "Midgard" isn't exactly the vacation spot of the Realms. Everywhere else is.

The Masters of Evil lure the Avengers into a collection of one on one battles, and things are not looking too great when suddenly the wall between _here_ and _there_ becomes... nonexistent.

Tony gets the lowdown from the locals and apparently there's a whole thing with the Nine Realms and something called Norn Stones, and some guy called Loki who is mucking some shit _up_. Tony wonders if life can get more unreal.

Or more perfect. He's worried about the others of course- and the _planet_ , and the fate of the galaxy and all that- but he's got his hands in a forge, he's sweating and swearing and creating, and the king of the goddamn dwarves smacks him on the shoulder and laughs and says, "It'll do," with this twinkle in his eye. And Tony can only grin like a madman, because Loki? He's going down.

 

After they retake Asgard, Steve is quiet, and Tony gets that. Steve spent some time hanging out with the dead- and if Tony doesn't like thinking about the past he sure as hell doesn't want to have to _talk_ _to_ anyone who's still stuck in it- and on top of that, the shield... Tony's pretty sure he can fix it, he can make it _better_ , but that's little comfort when he can see the image of it shattering under the tip of Loki's spear playing on repeat in Steve's head. But all of Asgard is celebrating around them, all of _nine realms_ , and there are people to quiz for information, a suit of uru armor to wheedle out of Eitri, and he can see even Steve eventually relaxes and joins in. At one point Tony steals Steve from the celebration, pulls him behind a pillar, and kisses him, deeply. Steve smiles against his lips, and they are rutting against each other, Steve softly gasping his name as Tony grins, quiet for once as his fingers wrap around both their cocks together, pulling them to climax in celebration of life and the living of it, and his free hand is stroking through Steve's hair, unconsciously pulling him closer. Steve's arms hold him close, and they are pressed against one another, Steve's mouth demanding against his lips, and Tony melts into the familiarity of it, because the world didn't end and that's a good thing.

 

But this is Tony, right? So it's not really a surprise when he fucks it up. Relationships aren't really his thing.

When they get back to Earth, Steve goes to his room with the shards that are all that remains of his shield. Tony gives Steve his space, but Tony is too unsettled still, so he goes to his armory and fiddles, and he's not surprised when Hank, bleary-eyed and rumpled, joins him sometime during the night; this darkness is not meant for sleeping. He and Hank bitch at each other, and there's a certain normalcy in it that Tony finds reassuring.

Which is good, because the next time he sees Steve Tony gets the feeling something has happened between them.

They're alone in the assembly room and Tony leans in to steal a kiss. Steve's response is slow and... calculated, as if he's weighing whether or not doing this will advantage him. Tony's about to pull away when Steve comes to a decision and responds, and there's a fierce bite to him as he leans in to kiss Tony back. The kiss deepens and Tony reaches to hook his fingers in Steve's waistband, but he hears Jan and Clint coming down the hall and he pulls away, straightening Steve's collar. There's a glint in Steve's eye, and Tony is still too high on being alive to notice that it isn't really a _Steve_ thing to do.

Steve falls to the back of his mind when Richards isn't as impressed as Tony really thinks he should be about armor made out of fucking _uru_ , but Victor von Doom abducting Jan and Sue kind of pulls Tony's focus back to combat. Eventually he remembers the reason he went to see Richards in the first place, and Tony borrows Kang's princess' diadem. He has an idea about the central crystal in the diadem, and anyway she's not going to miss it in stasis.

He's so caught up in his work he doesn't notice until later that Steve never came by the armory. Steve's long gotten wise to Tony asking for his "help," but he usually still comes by and sketches, or they talk- or Tony talks at him while Steve grins and laughs and looks at him with warm eyes- while Tony works. But not today. Not since they've been back from Asgard. Tony figures Steve's still upset about the shield.

 

Tony's project to make Steve a new shield is so all-consuming he barely notices where he is while he works. A Stark Industries board meeting is the perfect place to put the final touches on his brand new energy shield. Pepper is less than impressed. Tony stopped listening to the board's spluttering awhile back, but Pepper is still his barometer of acceptable behavior- whether or not he listens or accepts correction is a different matter, but he always pays attention to Pepper.

So his triumph with the shield- it's so _fucking_ perfect, Steve is going to _love_ it- seems appropriately balanced by his repetitive meeting with Maria Hill. The SHIELD director's persistence in attempting to get the Avengers registered and under SHIELD's oversight is something Tony can only describe as dogged. She isn't exactly singing _his_ praise either.

And then AIM chooses that moment to drop by. Apparently they're spoiling for some vengeance against Tony- he'd be the last person to say they didn't have reason- and they decide to continue their fad of stealing his stuff by trying to make off with SI's entire database of information, including arc reactor tech and armor specs.

Just as a side bonus, they brought along Technovore to keep Tony busy with trying not die while they do it. It's like H. R. Giger's tentacle hentai is trying to eat its way _into_ his chest, which, he'll be honest, puts a bit of a damper on his day.

Fortunately, while AIM might _think_ they're the shit, Tony is an _actual_ genius, and he manages to figure out how to stop them from blowing up the building _and_ give Technovore what it really wants: more arc reactor energy than it knows what to do with. Thankfully, Rhodey, T'Challa, and Steve were able to hold off the squad trying to steal his armor, and Pepper kept an eye on the head dude who was supervising the download of the database. Tony's pretty sure she takes more pleasure in elbowing the dude in the face than she really needs to, but hey, as far as he’s concerned it’s an added bonus.

Seeing Steve working the brand spanking new energy shield that Tony made him is enough to make the entire encounter _slightly_ less horrifying.

But, it's after this that Tony really forces himself to admit that something happened and Steve is... different. Tony's just glad to be alive after the drama with Technovore and he throws himself at Steve the moment the van pulls up to the Mansion with his armor and the rest of his projects they were transferring from Stark Tower, and he shoves Steve up against the wall of his armory the moment Rhodey leaves them.

Tony is devouring Steve's mouth, and Steve kisses him back at first, but as Tony starts pulling his clothes off eagerly, he finds that Steve... isn't the least bit aroused. It's kind of a shock- the kind of thing that hasn't happened to Tony in a long, long time- but he can fix it. Very easily.

He kneels to wrap his lips around Steve's barely interested cock, and is kind of shocked when Steve pulls him back. Steve is kind of glowering at him, but he kisses Tony, hard, and murmurs, "Don't worry about me." He brings Tony to climax with his own hand, his teeth drawing up marks on Tony's neck. All in all, it's one of the less satisfying encounters Tony's ever had and it's utterly uncharacteristic of Steve. They've been so busy, with everything, the last time they got serious was that night in Asgard, and that was a few weeks ago. Tony was probably expecting too much. But it isn't like Steve to not tell Tony when he doesn't want something.

 

And Steve continues to be... a bit off. It's like nothing Tony does is right. Steve likes his new shield, but it's like Hill giving it to him has divorced any connection it held to Tony. Not that Steve really says anything. There's just this way his eyes narrow slightly that reveals that Steve finds whatever he's looking at not quite as ship-shape as he thinks it should be and he's too much of a good soldier to say something about it. It's something he's always done but it's directed more often now at Tony; it pisses him off, and it makes him feel hollow. He thought he knew Steve. He thought they were friends, if nothing else.

It's the mess with Zemo that is the final straw. Zemo wants Steve in charge of flipping on the device to neutralize Enchantress' powers, but when Steve takes too long Zemo whips out his backup plan: the Norn Stone for Muspelheim. Tony's not sure what that means, except for opening a portal of fire that scorches the shit out of his training room. It's more of a mess to clean up than Tony wanted to deal with. Thor could probably tell him why the fire, and why Amora looked so horrified by Zemo's apparently suicidal plan, but Thor isn't here, and Tony's about to have a conversation he doesn't want to have.

"Why didn't you turn on the device?" Tony demands of Steve. It's just the two of them, in Tony's armory.

Steve gives him an odd look. "I did. The switch must have stuck."

Tony feels weeks of suffering Steve's condescension boil up in him. "That is bullshit."

Steve whirls around to face him. "Oh?" He steps up closer, trying to use his height to intimidate Tony.

But Tony's a fucking genius. He did not come to this argument unprepared and he's still wearing his suit, which gives him an additional five inches. He's practically staring Steve in the eye. "Yes." He lets the sibilant hiss a bit. "Zemo trusted you. I know you two have history, and yeah, he's a straight up villain, a self-proclaimed 'Master' of evil. But... Steve, you're an honorable man. How could you let that happen?" And Tony's mad, but he's also a little lost, because as much as Steve picks at him he has a certain faith in Steve's... wholeness. His goodness.

Steve scowls. "You're gonna cry tears over Zemo? He just said to your face how he sacrificed his team to protect himself from Amora. You would argue for his life?"

"No." Tony's fist clenches. "That's what _you're_ here for."

Steve laughs. It's an ugly, dark sound. "Maybe I'm sick of being the bleeding heart," he sneers. "Or maybe I'm just sick of _you_."

And Tony snaps, "Fine." He steps back. "We can end it right now."

Something flickers over Steve's face, like maybe he's made a mistake, but it passes quickly. "I don't think I'll miss it," he sneers.

 

They maintain a professional relationship in front of the team, but Tony's pretty sure Clint at least knows what's going on. Their training sessions get a little more intense, a little less holds-barred, as Tony uses them to release some of his tension. It's neither healthy nor productive.  Sometimes Tony gets so frustrated by Steve's actions that he runs back to Stark Industries, for the distance and the distraction. It's less distracting than he'd hoped, but sometimes the distance is the only thing keeping him from doing something stupid.

 

It's after Steve picks a fight with some aliens and Tony is thanking a god he doesn't believe in for the existence of Carol Danvers. He's just back from the Tower, and he's in his armory. He picks up the princess' diadem from where he left it on his worktable. He borrowed it from Richards what feels like ages ago to do some analysis and he has no desire to seek Richards out to return it. 

Tony sighs. "I wonder if I can mail a priceless alien artifact. JARVIS-"

And suddenly, the world tears out from under him, and he is somewhere else, being tossed across a room to look up and see two identical versions of himself staring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack listing: "Peace of Mind" is written by Tom Scholz and performed by Boston.


	2. When I Step Out I'm Gonna Do You In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint relates how he joined the Avengers because of Hulk and continued to deepen his relationship with Bruce.

**Location:** Universe MS, Designation: Beta __  
New Mexico  
_(7 months pre-anomaly)_

It's after the whole gamma incident and Hulk says he'll hang around with the Avengers, but only if Clint does.

Clint likes Hulk well enough, the guy's a brick, and Banner's not bad in a pinch, coming up with science on the fly and helping Clint save the rest of the Avengers and, incidentally, the world. Clint wasn't really in the market to get tied down to a team. He has the Widow to find, you know. Things to do. Personal scores to settle.

But hey, this lot seems like they need his help, getting themselves in trouble every other minute, and if Hulk'll stick around that's at least one person Clint knows can carry their own weight.

* * *

  
_New York City  
Avengers' Mansion_

It's not that bad, really. So maybe he has to save everybody's bacon a few times, but Clint hadn't let himself think about how much he missed SHIELD, and the camaraderie of having a team. Black Panther reminds him of Widow, in a weird way- with the quiet, and the knowing everything, and that hidden sense of humor that's out to kick Clint's _ass_ \- and Clint realizes how much he misses her. Or at least the her he thought he knew, before she turned out to be Hydra. Clint's been double-crossed enough to know that he can't let it stop him from carrying on with the mission, but... they were partners for six years. Her betrayal cuts him pretty deep. It's only when he sees how he's started relying on T'Challa, bickering and doubting command structures when it comes to Stark, and teaming with Hulk when they fight that he understands how much he'd pulled back when he was pursuing his vendetta on his own, and how lonely that was.

So maybe Clint's thinking about not being lonely when he catches Banner in the kitchen on one of his rare days out. Clint's just coming out of an intense training session with Cap and Jan, planning to grab a snack before he heads to his room to shower, and he's still riding a bit of an adrenaline high. He's feeling playful and he crowds Banner when they both reach for something in the pantry. Banner shoots him a wary look, but Clint just grins and kisses him on the end of his nose. Clint's an ass, and he's always had a weakness for freckles, and brains, and for flouting SHIELD's fraternization regulations- though he's not sure if SHIELD regulations really apply to the Avengers, and anyway it doesn't really count cause it's not like Banner is on the team.  Clint's just teasing, like he would with Jan because it's so damn _fun_ to get Wasp riled up; as Bobbi might have said back when they worked together at SHIELD, he's just being his usual dick self.

But Bruce leans into the quick brush of lips over his skin and Clint thinks, _hey_ _okay_. He leans in closer and Bruce's lips are warm and eager against his, Bruce's tongue demanding as Clint lets his lips part, and a shudder runs the length of Bruce's body that reminds Clint that he's not the only one who spent the last few months betrayed, imprisoned, alone, and hunted.

They come up for air. Bruce looks a little dazed and he opens his mouth. Clint's 100% sure he's about to use his giant science brain to come up with a reason why seeing where this could go isn't a good idea, so Clint shoots first. He leans in harder, steals a quick second taste of lips, and says, "Wanna head to my room?"

Bruce hesitates. He looks at Clint, and Clint would guess he doesn't present the best picture at the moment, covered in sweat and grime. But Bruce lets his lips part and, instead of the refusal Clint can see behind his eyes that he _wants_ to offer, Bruce says, "God, yes." He fists his hand in Clint's shirt and pulls him close, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to the circle of Clint's nipple, just visible through the cloth.

"Holy Christ," Clint moans. He bucks hard against Bruce and the shelf he has Bruce crowded against rattles alarmingly. He can hardly tear himself away, but Clint takes a deep breath. "Yeah. My room. Now."

Bruce nods. He follows Clint silently to the elevator and watches him with heavy eyes as Clint tries to resist touching him, and laughs- a hushed expelling of amused breath- when Clint gives in long before they reach the top floor and stumble out into the hall. It's the middle of the day so no one's around as Clint has Bruce's slighter body pressed up against the door to Clint's room and he's sucking up a dark, red mark along Bruce's collarbone as Bruce's fingers card through his hair and Bruce moans right in his ear. It's only when Bruce breaks Clint's concentration with fingers flicking his nipples that Clint swears and remembers how to work the doorknob.

They fall on the bed in a disorganized mess. Clothing is flying, or tearing, and Clint hasn't had _any_ in so long he thinks he's going to come long before they actually manage anything serious, so as soon as he digs the lube out of the nightstand he slicks his hand and wraps it around both their cocks together.

Bruce is moaning and bucking up against Clint, his arms around Clint's neck at the moment, fingers in Clint's hair, pulling him closer. They're breathing each other's breath, kissing passionately, and as Clint predicted his climax builds far too soon. Bruce has dropped his hands to Clint's chest, and he's tweaking the hard nubs of Clint's nipples, a huge grin on his face, when Clint feels his breath catch, and he's coming against Bruce's stomach, hard, more and more, until his arm can't prop him up anymore and he falls against Bruce, still shaking with his climax. Bruce twitches under him but tries to be still for the moment, his fingers in Clint's hair again as he murmurs something so softly that Clint can't make out the words.

Clint comes down enough to feel that Bruce is still hard, and Clint thinks _tit for tat_ , and he turns his head so that his lips are tasting Bruce's bare chest. His tongue curls around Bruce's nipple, and his teeth close lightly over the pert nub. Bruce gasps and gives a choked moan, his fingers clenching in Clint's hair. His body shudders, and he's bucking up against Clint, and Clint can feel the spurting warmth of his release as Bruce moans in completion.

They lay against each other for a moment before Clint pushes himself up. He kisses Bruce again, just a final taste, and says, "We should do this again." If his voice is a little breathy he's not going to be the one to mention it.

Bruce chuckles. His eyes narrow for a moment, but he says, "Yeah. That would be... nice." He clears his throat awkwardly. "You, um, you should probably shower. Immediately. And have everything cleaned. Well cleaned. Or burned."

Clint glances at the mess they made on the bed. And all over his shirt and Bruce's boxers, neither of which made it all the way to the floor with the rest of the clothing. He knows that Hulk's blood is dangerous, but hadn't really translated that knowledge through to Bruce. Bruce is blushing. "It, um, should be safe? I haven't really had a... a reason, to test. That theory." He clears his throat again and Clint makes a conscious decision not to be an ass. Hey, there's gotta be a first time for everything, right?

"Glad to give you a reason to do more science, Doc, " he says easily. "Let me know if I need to have anything else prepared for next time."

Bruce nods, and looks a little relieved that Clint still wants a next time. Clint offers Bruce his shower before he leaves, and they both take a quick and cleansing wash. Clint's still enjoying the fall of the water when Bruce gives him a last kiss and ducks out.

 

It's a little weird the next time he sees Hulk. Hulk doesn't wear shirts, and Clint can't help thinking that Hulk's nipples are actually Bruce's nipples, and well... Hulk shoots him a disgusted look and throws him into a wall in the training room- which Stark yells at them about- and Clint kind of gets over it. Hulk and Bruce are different. Hulk is his friend and Clint's not going to let whatever benefits he has with Bruce impact that friendship. So he spars with Hulk, and goes swimming with Hulk and Jan, and lets Bruce fall to the back of his mind for the moment.

 

Of course, that's helped by the fact that most of his mind is given over to Widow. She left him to take the blame for what she did and even if he can't get back what he lost at SHIELD, he's not going to let her get away with it. He's been tracking down every little lead and he's getting close. In fact, he's so close he manages to tag a Hydra airship and find his way to Hydra Island. Fury telling him to let it go isn't really surprising; Clint's a little annoyed when Stark sides with Fury. And rather surprised when Cap and Panther don't.

Clint supposes that if anyone was going to help him take out Hydra it would be Captain America. Black Panther however is more a supporter of not running off by yourself like an idiot. Honestly, Stark might be the de facto leader of their little group but even Clint has to agree that T'Challa is the one who feels like he's only there to stop them from hurting themselves with how stupid they're being. It's Clint's turn in the idiot chair this time and his only excuse is that the Widow gets to him like nothing else can.

And there's Bobbi. It's been awhile since Clint's worked with her, but she's still... Well, she's still Doctor Barbara Morse, freckles and amazing legs, and that grin that lets him know she's thinking about something naughty. He knows he can't trust her- that she's probably Fury's plant- but that just flares his homesickness for SHIELD.

As with most things involving the Widow, Clint is simultaneously both more confused and more determined after the encounter. He's back at the mansion, having been reamed out again by both Stark and Fury, and thinking about Bruce. It's weird, but Clint trusts Bruce. It's not something he's ever thought about before, but juxtaposed against his recent return to SHIELD he realizes that Hulk's probably the most honest person he knows. Bruce might keep his secrets but it's out of self-preservation, not because some higher up decided that something needs to be secret. He wants to talk to Bruce about it, but Hulk's off with Pym and Jan, where Stark just got back from. Something about aliens, like Clint really needs that to be a thing in his life right now.

 

 

It's early in the morning when there's a knock at his door. He opens it to find Bruce looking at him. Bruce's expression is guarded and his eyes are fixed on Clint's lips, not quite meeting Clint's gaze. "Hi," he says. "I, um. Need a pilot? Wanted to head back up to the cabin for a bit." He licks his lips and his eyes meet Clint's for the briefest of moments.

But when Bruce tries to look away, Clint steps forward. Bruce backs up warily but he's looking at Clint now, their eyes meeting and holding. "Sure," Clint says, though part of him is still searching for the question in Bruce's jumbled words. "Let me get dressed." He leaves the door open as he steps back into his room and pulls on some jeans over his boxers-and-t-shirt sleepwear. He gathers his bow and quiver and turns back in time to catch Bruce staring at him hungrily before he shutters the expression behind a polite facade. It's enough to make Clint pause and consider the bed that's less than six feet away. But Bruce wanted a trip to his science cabin, so that's what they're going to do. Go to the cabin. In the middle of nowhere. Clint makes sure to slip lube and a couple of condoms in his pocket in case Bruce isn't already stocked.

When they arrive, Bruce goes right inside with the sort of determined air that Clint has gotten used to avoiding from Stark or Pym, as it tends to presage a flow of words Clint doesn't have the patience to untangle. Clint hangs out with the skycycle doing a systems check, then he sits for a bit stretching in the sun, letting Bruce get settled. Clint goes down to the pond and watches the ripples in the water, and the grass growing, until he can't stand it anymore. He strides to the cabin, probably faster than necessary. His fingers linger on the door before he pushes it open. Bruce is leaning over the computer, something bubbling over a Bunsen burner on the table. He looks up at Clint; his eyes are fierce.

"I, um, I haven't had time," Bruce drops his eyes and mumbles, "to do the testing I wanted. But I have some preliminary results." Clint paces his way forward through the space; Bruce tenses though his eyes are now on the computer screen. He turns the Bunsen burner off. "There's no significant contamination in the results I have. You should be fine. Though I would definitely recommend we use condoms to limit your exposure."

Clint nods. His eyes are taking in every nuance of Bruce, his expression and posture, and he notices the exact moment when Bruce's eyes flick up to him, the way Bruce inhales through his nose and licks his lips. Clint steps in, and Bruce meets him halfway.

They are as full of energy and uncoordinated lust as the first time, but at least Clint feels like they might actually make it somewhere before he bursts this time. Bruce is fierce, almost desperate, and Clint relaxes under the press of his fingers for a moment. He likes eagerness, but he feels like maybe he should drive. "You know the cowgirl?" Clint asks.

"Um, yes," Bruce responds warily.

Clint grins, because he's pretty sure he knows what Bruce is thinking, and it's not quite in line with him yet. "Good," Clint says. "I feel like riding."

And Bruce inhales, his eyes wide and dark, and he nods hungrily in a way that reminds Clint of Hulk. But Clint doesn't really want to think about Hulk right now, and he spreads Bruce over the bed beneath him as he presses the lube into Bruce’s hand. Bruce reaches for Clint, sliding his hands up over Clint's thighs as Clint straddles him and moves forward until he can feel the length of Bruce's cock against the back of his thigh and ass when Bruce thrusts up against him teasingly. Bruce's slick fingers open him up and Clint closes his eyes, humming softly as he relishes in the sensation. It's been an even longer while since he bottomed to a male partner, and even if he hadn't already asked for it Clint feels like he would have demanded that they go again just so he could feel this. Bruce is slipping fingers inside of him, easing him open wider. It's not something Clint partakes in often; he would imagine even less so for Bruce, though the fingers on his skin move with surety. "Let me know when you're ready," Bruce says. Clint opens his eyes. Bruce's voice is even but his pupils fill his eyes with arousal. Clint leans forward to kiss the end of that freckled nose. He eases back and pulls out a condom, rolling it down over Bruce's cock before stroking him with his slicked hand. Bruce moans softly as Clint leans down.

"Ready when you are," Clint murmurs back. Bruce's breathing is controlled and careful and Clint grins. His fingers tangle with Bruce's as he helps guide them together, and the press of flesh is at first an uncomfortable intrusion, then a welcome pressure as it slips inside of him. Clint hums in approval as he feels how his body stretches to accommodate Bruce, and leans down to steal a kiss as he begins to move.

Bruce meets his lips eagerly, his hands gripping Clint's shoulders even as he rises against Clint moving down above him. Clint holds still for a moment, letting Bruce fuck him, before he settles down fully against Bruce, taking him in deeper. Bruce again seems slightly obsessed with his nipples, and the work of his fingers pulls sounds from Clint that Clint didn't even know he could make. When he thinks he might come too quickly, Clint takes Bruce's hands in his and pins them to the bed with a glare. Bruce grins up at him, unrepentant.

Looking down at Bruce, allowing himself to be pinned and held still, Clint thinks about Hulk again and suddenly remembers his previous thoughts when it came to Bruce and trust. He kind of really enjoys the idea that Bruce is _allowing_ him to dictate in this moment- that if Bruce didn't want it, Hulk would make short work of Clint. Okay, so it's a little weird to think about his friend Hulk while Bruce's cock is pulsing with blood in his ass, but Clint appreciates that Hulk protects Bruce. He wants to say something, but he can't think of words that make sense, or at least don't accuse Hulk of being a creepy stalker watching them, so instead he just rides Bruce to his climax, eyes fixed on Bruce's flushed face, occasionally pressing wet lips to Bruce's neck or chest. "Unfair," Bruce groans as Clint's tongue laves over a nipple, Bruce's hands tightening with Clint's where their fingers are interlaced on the bed. Clint chuckles.

Bruce climaxes first; he closes his eyes and his mouth opens slightly as his breath catches in his throat with a soft whine. Clint disentangles their hands and runs his fingers down Bruce's body, taking an almost sadistic pleasure in eliciting as many twitches and moans as he can from Bruce's sensitive and over-stimulated skin.

When he's had enough, Bruce flips Clint off of him with an ease that underscores Clint's earlier thoughts. Bruce disposes of the used condom and wipes himself off. Clint is sprawled across the bed, stroking himself, watching Bruce. When Bruce turns around and looks, he stops for a moment and watches in his own turn. Clint preens a little under the desire in Bruce's gaze, but there are better things to be doing and he gives Bruce his best "come hither."

Bruce laughs, but he comes closer, easing Clint's legs apart to lie between them. He glances up for permission- Clint's breathing heavier already, but he manages a "fuck, yes, please, god"- and wraps his lips around the head of Clint's cock.

Clint closes his eyes again with a moan, relishing in the sensation of Bruce's tongue flicking the underside of his head. He won't take long after everything they've already done... And then he feels Bruce's fingers circling his opening, stretched open by Bruce's cock and now clenching at his fingers in the wake of that intrusion, and Clint just goes white. He throws his head back, he thinks he manages to gasp out a "fuck, Bruce, I'm gonna-", but there's no telling really as he feels his body tense with the force of his orgasm.

He's still shuddering, his skin so sensitive he swears he can feel the air against him, so heavy, but he forces himself to pull it together enough to check on his partner, hoping he didn't come all over Bruce's face, because that would be a kink they haven't discussed yet and Clint doesn't want to make this weird. Well, any weirder than it already is with his friend and his new fuck buddy sharing the same body.

But Bruce anticipated him and pulled off in time to cup his hand around the head of Clint's cock, and he's stroking it now; the milky fluid of Clint's release smearing over the skin of his cock and collecting between Bruce's fingers is a sight that makes up for Bruce's revenge of insistent fingers on over-sensitized flesh. "That is so weirdly hot I think I might come again," Clint says. Bruce laughs, and something in him relaxes, as if he was waiting this whole time for Clint to change his mind or walk out.

They shower, and go back to the bed, and spend a few lazy hours, Clint kissing every freckle he can find and Bruce massaging the muscles in Clint's shoulders until he feels so limber he could shoot every arrow in the world without even pausing. They go out to the pond and bicker good-naturedly while they make dinner by the campfire. Bruce steals a kiss, bold as you please, and Clint isn't sure whether to encourage it or start trying to draw some lines. He's all for boldness, but he's not interested in a relationship; he thought Bruce was on the same page but maybe they should reexamine that page.

Bruce must sense his conflict, because he pulls back and grins in that self-deprecating way of his. "Sorry. I'm a little high on being able to feel things. He doesn't let me out much." He makes a _what can you do about it?_ gesture, and turns back to watch the fire.

And Clint forgot, as impossible as it seems, he forgot for a moment that Bruce isn't like other people- that he can't have a relationship, like the ones that always end up exploding in Clint's face. Clint reaches for Bruce, trailing his fingers along Bruce's chin and guiding him into another kiss. Bruce leans into it and, after a quick press of lips, Clint murmurs, "Let me know if you don't want-" And he can't even finish the sentence before Bruce's lips are on his again.

The ground is much less comfortable than a bed, but Clint lies back and wraps his arms around Bruce above him. He can feel himself getting hard again and he just gives in to the rhythm of desire. Eventually they do move back to the bed.

When they get back to the Mansion, Clint goes back to joking around with Hulk, but Bruce is much closer to his thoughts than before.

 

The next time they open the doors of the Mansion, the Widow is standing there.

Somehow Clint's not really surprised that Natasha was undercover for Fury the whole time. She's good- he always knew she was good- and she played it _so_ well. He sure as hell didn't make it easy for her.

"You should have trusted Clint," Pym tells her, but Clint understands. He's worked undercover before, too. And he takes a certain glee from knowing how much of a pain in the ass he was. That's a little of his own back, and he can forgive her for setting him up to take her fall. His break with SHIELD has led him to where he is now, and these yahoos need him a hell of a lot more than SHIELD ever did.

After all, he is the one who saves the world. Again.

When Natasha asks him to go with her to find Fury, Clint is surprised that he's not even tempted. The Avengers are his team, his partners. He may have forgiven her, but it'll be awhile before he works with her again, and even longer before he trusts her again.

Late that night, there's a knock on his door and Clint is shocked when he opens it to find Bruce.

"Hey," Clint says, and he kind of hopes how pleased he is doesn't bleed through as easily as he thinks it does. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while."

Bruce blushes. "I... negotiated some things with Hulk. Special occasion, and all." He looks at Clint like he's looking for something.

Clint smiles easily. "I'm not going anywhere." He shrugs. "Jade Jaws said he'd hang around as long as I was here, so I can't let him down." He reaches out and rests his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Got no reason to be anywhere but here."

And that's not what he really meant to say- he wanted to say something about how he _knows_ Natasha, and he knows how she works and he'll always love her a bit, but he _trusts_ Bruce, and the team, and he doesn't want to lose that again. But it's tangled somewhere between the walls that keep him from betraying himself while undercover and the shield of sarcasm that prevents him from communicating emotion, so he just quips. But it's enough for Bruce, here and now, that Clint _is_ here, and Bruce steps into Clint's room. Clint shuts the door behind him.

 

 

When it's Pym's fault that Clint gets hurt on a mission, Clint doesn't hold it against him. Any more than usual. He certainly didn't think the result of Pym's latest hissy fit was going to be Ultron going nuts. And that the result of Ultron going nuts was going to be Thor dead and Cap in the hospital.

It's a tense few hours when Ultron comes back for round two, because it's just not Tuesday until someone tries to eliminate humanity. Ultron is totally kicking Clint and T'Challa's _asses_ with a mansion full of Iron Man armors- yeah, Clint's not the greatest strategist, but, really, stopping Ultron from taking over SHIELD was more important and he'd supported sending the heavy hitters to take care of that job- when Thor suddenly drops through the ceiling and Clint has never been quite this happy to see someone righteously _pissed off_ and ready for mayhem.

Clint, T'Challa, Pym, and Thor head to the helicarrier, which is great timing apparently because Ultron is about to toast Stark. There's a bit more throwing around, but as they continue the fight Clint's starting to realize that someone's missing. Someone big and green, and usually not this difficult to find. He fires off another salvo of exploding arrows and glances around and almost has a seizure right there in the middle of the battle when he recognizes _Bruce_ lying on the helicarrier's bridge catwalk, trying to pull himself to his feet. Clint swoops in and pulls Bruce up against him, his arm under the other man's shoulders as he hauls them as quickly as possible to the edge of the mayhem. He feels Panther behind them, keeping Ultron from shooting him in the back, but Clint's kind of floored by Bruce's existence at the moment.

"What the fuck?" he demands. Bruce is breathing quick and shallow against Clint's throat, and his eyes are glassy. Clint touches his face, trying to bring him back to this moment.

Bruce inhales deeply, and his eyes focus on Clint for half a second before they roll back in his head.

Clint returns to the battle, because despite how unbalanced he feels they need to finish this. He's gonna blame Pym just a little bit more than he already was if Bruce gets hurt because of Ultron. Bruce was not supposed to be here; he's not supposed to be able to get hurt.

When Clint and T'Challa return to Bruce- while Pym, Hill, and Stark have it out about whose fault this is- Bruce is awake and he smiles at them weakly.

"Ultron, he sucked the gamma energy right out of me," he says, and there is a jittery, wondering tone to his words, as if he's not entirely certain how he feels about that.

"So it seems," Panther says, the eyes of his mask flickering green. "I am reading a complete absence of gamma radiation emanating from your person.”

"Is it permanent?" Clint says, kind of wishing he could ask that question without horror coloring his words because Bruce flinches.

T'Challa pushes back his mask and shakes his head. "I wouldn't think so." His expression is kind and he looks at Bruce even though he's answering Clint's question. "The levels should build up and return to normal."

Bruce nods. He still looks a little shell shocked. "That would support previously gathered information." He blinks. "Not that anything precisely like this has happened to me before." He tries to stand on his own and wobbles.

Clint and T'Challa carry him to the jet, which Bruce doesn't even protest so Clint knows he must feel pretty shit. He gets a little steadier during the flight. It's not an entirely conscious decision, but Clint is at Bruce's heels all the way up through the Mansion after they land.

When they arrive at the door to Hulk's room, Bruce turns back to look at Clint. "He's fine," he says shortly. "He'll be back soon. Don't worry."

Clint seizes the doorknob before Bruce can turn it, crowding Bruce against the door. Bruce glares at him, hackles raised, and snaps, "What?" He shakes himself and takes a deep breath, burying the anger.

Clint breathes in the scent of Bruce's hair, and just then, in that moment, realizes that he's not worried about Hulk possibly not coming back. He's still worried about _Bruce._ It's a weird revelation. He likes Bruce well enough, but not as much as he likes Hulk. Hulk can fight like a motherfucker and maybe that's it, he's realizing- without Hulk, Bruce continues to be vulnerable and that is something Clint does not like.

"Come to my room," he urges.

Bruce takes another deep, slow breath. "No." His response is measured and his voice is firm. He is staring resolutely at the far wall of the hallway and won't look at Clint.

Clint steps back, relinquishing the doorknob. "Fine," he says. "See you in a month, or whatever." He turns away and sweeps off down the hall; behind him he hears Bruce slam the door.

Clint might be an ass, but he doesn't let go of things once they're in his sights. He goes up to his room, out his window to the roof, and tucks himself up under the eaves where he can watch Bruce's window. His bow lies easily across his folded legs after he shoots a microphone up against the windowpane.  There's not a lot of sound; he can hear Bruce breathing angrily and the _thunk_ of his head against the back of the door. There is an itch under Clint's skin that makes it hard to sit still without his eyes on Bruce. He flips his ID card between his fingers; why isn't anyone else as worried as he is about Bruce? He hears a knock on Bruce's door; Bruce jumps to his feet to answer it. "Ah. Hello, T'Challa."

"Doctor Banner. I wanted to make sure you were well after the day's events." There is a pause. "I know the Captain would wish to make this visit himself were he not still confined to a hospital bed."

Bruce chuckles without any real feeling. "Thanks," he says wryly. "I'll let you know if I need anything."

T'Challa doesn't say anything else, but Clint hears Bruce shut the door. Bruce sighs and rests his head against the back of the door. There's a thud which Clint guesses is Bruce's fist connecting with the door. "Dammit," Bruce says. There's a loud crash. Clint tenses, his eyes scanning everything he can see: the grounds below him, the swath of the roof in front of him, the corner of Bruce's room through the window. There is no intruder, no attack that he can see. He hears another crash from Bruce's room; from the corner that is in his view he sees the bedside table fall over. Bruce collapses against the bed; his knee, elbow, and his face covered by his hands are just in view. "Dammit," he says again. His voice sounds tired.

There's no attack that he can see, but Clint tenses further. His fingers run along his bowstring trying to resist the urge to pull it back, to fire. There is no enemy to attack, nothing to shoot, no way for him to assist. Which is bullshit, because Clint's saved the hell out of this team too many times to give up now. He stands and shoots a guideline from his perch to Bruce's window, hooks his bow over the top, and slides down.

He lands against Bruce's window with a heavy thud, but he glances in and it doesn't look like Bruce heard him. Bruce is still sitting beside the bed, face in hands. There isn't much of a ledge to stand on here outside the window, but Clint taps a sticky arrow against the stone of the outer wall and hangs on. From this vantage he can see almost the entire room and the itch under his skin quiets. He can see that the crashing earlier was from Bruce knocking things over and throwing them around; Clint guesses Bruce took some advantage of the fact that Hulk is currently not an option, but his release of emotion doesn't seem to have had the catharsis that was hoped for because Bruce is still sitting slumped tiredly against the bed.

Clint is breathing quick and shallow, in that state of anticipation where he is both tense and relaxed. His eyes are fixed on Bruce, and somehow he doesn't expect it when Bruce sighs then looks up- and looks _right at_ Clint. Clint feels his breath catch, but he can't look away.

Bruce is shocked, staring at Clint, but there is something almost pleased in his face. He looks down as he gets to his feet and comes over to the window. He pushes it open and his expression is stern. "What are you doing?"

Clint looks down at him. "Hanging out. I like windowsills even better than rooftops. Why? Is there something I can do for you?"

Bruce takes a deep breath and looks down. "If you fall-" Clint makes a derisive noise, and Bruce shakes his head. "Come in," he says like an offer, not an order.

Clint looks at him for a moment but doesn't pretend it's not what he wants. "Okay," he says easily. Bruce steps back and Clint flips down into the room. He still has his bow clenched in his hand; Bruce is looking at it as if he's realizing more than Clint is saying about why Clint is hanging around outside his window in the middle of the night.

Bruce steps back, as if he's not sure what to do next. Clint sinks down to sit just inside the window, and Bruce steps backward until he comes up against the bed and sinks down where he was sitting before. Clint can feel Bruce's eyes watching him, but Clint keeps his eyes on his bow. He feels all along its length for any breaks or nicks; he can do this check by touch alone, but his eyes follow his fingers anyway.

Bruce sighs. "You know, T'Challa respects my ability to know when I'm capable of taking care of myself."

It's a little pointed. Clint couldn't bring himself to care. "Yep," is all he says, and starts to methodically go through the contents of his quiver. He knows what's there but it's comforting to touch them each again.

"Clint," Bruce says, and Clint finally looks up at him, their eyes meeting. Bruce huffs a breath, and Clint can see that maybe a lot of Bruce's anger tonight is actually fear.

Clint's always been the normal guy in this group so he's not sure what it's like to be the poster child for immovable object and unstoppable force combined in one moment, and then to have that just sucked out of you the next moment like you're nothing special. Clint knows how _he_ would deal with that; it involves a few things he can probably find in abundance in anyplace owned by Tony Stark. "You wanna get drunk?"

Bruce stiffens. "No." It's an even flatter rejection than the one he gave Clint at the door earlier.

Clint nods easily. "I'm gonna guess hookers are off the table too then."

Bruce makes a face somewhere between disgusted and wondering.

Clint shrugs and leans back against the windowsill. "The best way to celebrate being alive is to get so shitfaced you wish you were dead. Or to fuck until you can't fuck anymore." He raises an eyebrow. "Or find whoever tried to kill you and return the favor." That's more of a long-term project; it feels like it took him forever to catch up to the Widow. And they already destroyed Ultron, so probably not a viable option either in this case. With that, he's out of ideas.

Bruce clears his throat. "You think we need to involve prostitutes for your second option?" He blushes slightly and looks up at Clint from under lowered lids.

Clint leers. Bruce looks away and his jaw tightens. Clint finds himself watching the line of it with interest. He decides to put a choke hold on the ass and tell it like it is. "I was the one creeping outside your window after you told me to fuck off. I'm not making any assumptions."

Bruce's eyes snap back to him. "I see." He stands. "Though, you are actually. Assuming." Clint feels like Bruce's steps are supposed to be measured and calm, but he moves too jerkily for that and he practically throws himself across the room at Clint, landing in Clint's lap, his fingers already in Clint's hair and his lips demanding on Clint's mouth.

Clint brings his own hands up along Bruce's back, pulling Bruce's slighter body against him. Bruce is shivering and Clint pulls him closer until the heat of their bodies has Bruce panting instead.

Bruce pulls away, glancing behind him, and asks, "Your room?" He looks a little awkward, as if Clint should ask him why they would go to Clint's room when there's a perfectly good, perfectly _huge_ bed behind them.

But Clint gets it, so he just grins and nods. When Bruce stands and moves to go to the door, Clint pulls him back. He hooks Bruce's arms around his neck, swings them out the window and fires an arrow back up to his previous perch, reeling the line in, and they sneak over the roof back to Clint's window.

Bruce is laughing softly, and his lips tease Clint distractingly, but Clint gets them inside the window. He sets his bow and quiver beside the bed, within reach because he's still not done protecting Bruce, and they spend the next hours touching each other. Clint doesn't really sleep, because he's on watch, just catches catnaps here and there with Bruce dozing against him, only to wake again and grin at the way Bruce gasps when Clint's fingers skim a line up his spine.

 

Clint's not sure when it happens, but he does fall deeply asleep only to wake with a start, morning sunlight pouring in over him. Bruce is gone. Clint tenses, but there are no signs of a struggle. He grabs his bow- and some clothes- and goes downstairs.

Hulk is eating breakfast, listening to Jan go on and on about Pym- seriously, Clint loves the girl, but she has something of an obsession- and he looks up at Clint as soon as Clint walks in.

Clint smiles. "Hey Hulk. Good to see you back."

Hulk grunts, but eyes Clint for a moment and says, "Thanks."

Clint's not sure if it's for being pleased to see him, or for protecting Bruce and not letting him be alone, or for respecting Bruce's need to respect Hulk's space and taking their sexy time back to Clint's place, but Clint's going to assume all three. He grins. "Sure. That's what friends are for." Jan gives them a sappy grin.

But it _is_ what friends are for, so he goes over and throws an arm around Jan because she looks like she could use it. Pym's gonna quit the team, for real legit this time, which Clint's not really that broken up about but he knows that there are two things Jan really loves, and they are Hank Pym and being an Avenger. Having those things become separated is tearing her up.

Jan is a woman of deep emotion, but also a woman of quick passions. Clint distracts her with supervillains- because the Serpent Society did get away and someone needs to kick their asses- and later with visiting Cap in the hospital.

Clint's the only one not surprised when they find Stark sitting at Cap's bedside. They've been pretty discreet, but Stark hasn't been around the Mansion much since Cap was injured, and Clint remembers the time he caught Cap doing the walk of shame. He had guessed then, but now he's sure; he's not sure Jan gets it, as annoyingly coy as she can be about him and Bruce, but T'Challa sees it- Clint can tell because there's a crinkle near his eye that wasn't there before. T'Challa's a hard one to read, but Clint's got sharp eyes.

Stark tries to deny that he's there for any particular reason, which is not helped by Cap's protests that he's fine and they should take him home, but Clint did this last night, too. He claps a hand on Stark's shoulder and says, "Cap's part of the team. You don't leave a teammate alone when they're vulnerable." Jan nods fiercely, but Cap blushes as if it's been awhile since he was the vulnerable one.

Stark looks deeply at Clint, like he's trying to see if his secret is still hidden, and maybe he sees more than Clint intended because his next words are, "How's Banner?"

"Fine," Clint says easily. "Hulk's back, this morning."

Stark nods. His eyes go back to Cap and Clint figures if he and Bruce are _that_ obvious it's no wonder Jan picked them out almost immediately.

 

After Kang, and that crazy ice-making box that nearly killed them, and Hydra and AIM starting WWIII in their backyard, and Ultron, they have a few weeks of quiet, nothing hanging over their heads. Well, Thor's worried about the fact that apparently he can't get home because the bridge is broken or something, but broken hardware's a Stark problem. T'Challa helps him with it, but Bruce isn't interested and it's not enough to tempt Pym back. Clint and Bruce head up to the cabin again on Bruce's next day out.

 

Of course it's just the calm before the storm.

One minute Clint's fighting Chemistro, the next thing he knows Thor's on comms babbling about Norn Stones and there's an elf giving him a dirty look.

All things said, Clint could get to like Alfheim. There are trees to perch in and fire from, a plethora of arrows lying around to return fire with, and mouthy elf dudes who make Clint grin with their sass. The main problem is that this is not Earth, and Clint's pretty sure they don't have beer, oh and he's being chased by fucking _wolves_ , and there aren't supposed to be _fucking portals to other places_ just strewn about for people to wander into.

T'Challa's appearance is a comfort, Clint won't lie- but he won't exactly say it either. His new pal Faradei puts them on a ship to Asgard and somewhere along the rainbow bridge- that's a thing too now- they meet most of the rest of the team. Clint didn't have time to really be worried, but he's glad to see Hulk, Jan, and even Pym, plus their other new friends. There's nothing like taking down a megalomaniacal jackass to bring people together.

 So they do that, and pretty much the entirely of the Nine Realms- which must be a fuckload of people- is shocked they pulled it off. There were some close moments, but it was all too fast for Clint to think about their chances. He just _does_ , and the whole team just does their thing too, and Clint is starting to enjoy this team thing quite a lot.

There's a huge feast in Asgard and everyone gets massively drunk. Even Cap is acting a little tipsy, and even Hulk quaffs an ale or two though he's much more interested in eating. Holy shit, Clint has never seen someone who can eat so much. Hulk is like a bottomless pit.

Hulk is glaring at him, and Clint realizes that he's drunk enough he said that aloud. He squeezes Hulk's shoulder and leans against him. "I mean it in a good way. Like, Holy shit, Stark never shuts up." He frowns, because that seems like a poor example. "But it's cool, because he's always thinking of new things." Clint grins stupidly, thinking about his latest round of arrows in production. "He’s gonna make me arrows that can brain zap people," Clint says dreamily. "But not just, like, people, like whole _people_.” He blinks. He was going somewhere else with that thought, but… “Hey, Faradei had some pretty sweet arrows. Do you think Stark would make me some like that?" He blinks over at Hulk who is looking back at him like he's an idiot and Hulk is going to have to rethink his friendships from now on.

Clint forgets his question and slaps Hulk on the shoulder. "Remember when I said the best way to celebrate not being killed is to get shit-faced?" Clint blinks. "No, that was Bruce. Anyway," he raises his glass, "I'm getting shit-faced. Have a happy not-being-dead feast!" And Clint kisses him on the cheek, because he's an ass and he always will be, but Hulk seems amused by something. He slaps Clint on the back, and Clint goes face first into the table, and just comes up laughing, so bonelessly drunk it doesn't even hurt.

 

 

Clint wakes up in his own bed. His head hurts so bad he can't see anything, but he recognizes the feel of his sheets and the smell of his room- that particular combination of bow resin and body wash. The last thing he remembers is the Asgard party and he groans. The sound of it makes the inside of his head want to shatter and he buries his face in the pillow and groans again, which doesn't help.

A hand touches his elbow and a soft voice says, "Here."

Clint reaches and comes in contact with a hand holding some pills. He puts them in his mouth and manages to work the glass Bruce holds for him without spilling huge quantities of it. Clint groans again when he falls back against the bed.

"Still think it's the best way to celebrate being alive?" Bruce asks, because he is apparently _evil_ , and Clint groans louder. He hears Bruce's soft chuckle and he hears Bruce move away.

Bruce is probably just going to put the glass down in the bathroom, but Clint can't help the reflexive way his throat tightens and he says, "Stay."

Bruce pauses. "Yeah," he says softly. Clint's eyes are still closed so Bruce's hands come out of nowhere, running through Clint's hair. Clint makes a soft sound of encouragement and he feels the bed dip slightly under Bruce's weight as Bruce climbs up beside him.

And that's good. Clint feels vulnerable, not all there, and he doesn't want to be alone. He wants his team with him, Hulk at his back. Bruce may not be on the team, but he's like Clint's bow: a mechanism by which the team functions and without which it cannot. And he feels nice, pressed up against Clint's back, his arms wrapped around Clint. Clint sleeps the sleep of the truly weary and does so for longer than he's used to sleeping.

It's late afternoon when he wakes, and he introduces Bruce to the absolute best way to spend a lazy afternoon after you've just saved the world again. It goes over better than his previous ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack listing: "Sharp Dressed Man" is written and performed by ZZ Top.


	3. Some Folks Inherit Star-Spangled Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve discovers that some days just aren't worth getting out of bed, and he finds a surprise waiting in his room when the team returns home from Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had previously stated that I recommended reading chapter 4 of OOOT before reading this chapter. After rewriting this chapter for the 3rd time I’m finally happy enough with how it plays out to post it, and I think it does a much better job of standing on its own. Just be aware that the two chapters _are_ connected and reading one will spoil the twist in the other (assuming you didn't already know it from watching the show).

**Location:** Universe MS, Designation: Beta  
_New York_  
_Avengers Mansion_  
_45 days pre-anomaly_

Steve's only been alive again for maybe seven months. Seven months of time that he can remember living, and before that was an empty expanse of frozen years, and before that was the war. It's not enough time.

But then the walls come down between the worlds, and after that everything changes.

 

He didn't sleep well the night before, so Steve starts the morning with his face smashed against Tony's spine, trying to hide from the light pouring in the windows.

"As long as you're back there," Tony drawls, his voice still rough, pre-coffee, "you could make yourself _useful_." The words are light and playful, and his fingers reach to pull Steve's leg over his hip, fitting them closer together.

Steve mock-growls, and he has his arm around Tony already but he uses it to pull Tony closer, nipping his way up his back and over his shoulder, teeth pinching skin over hard muscles, until he's face to face with Tony and he takes his grinning lips in a deeper kiss.

"Mm, good morning, soldier," Tony says smartly as he wriggles further down against Steve, seeking and finding Steve's morning lift and letting it slide along his ass.

Steve laughs; he does love it when Tony pushes to get what he wants, but he also likes to make it maybe not that easy. "Good morning," he says back, turning Tony over so that Steve can kiss and nip his way over Tony's chest and shoulders.

Tony groans as the move slides their bodies apart. "Not seeing your strategy here, Cap," he complains, but his fingers are in Steve's hair.

"I was thinking breakfast," he says, giving a hard nip at Tony's hip before he buries his face in Tony's groin.

" _Fuck_ , yes," Tony murmurs, and Steve presses his nose into Tony's skin and inhales, before he moves again and mouths the flesh of Tony's cock, taking it between his lips. His tongue is working along the length of it, flesh getting harder as the blood flow increases, and Tony moans above him. Steve closes his eyes and lets Tony's cock slide into the channel of his throat with the ease of practice. "Fuck, _Steve_." Tony sounds even rougher now, his breath quick and uneven, and his fingers are tight in Steve's hair as he thrusts, lightly at first.

Steve meets the thrust of Tony's hips as they rise against him, and he's a little proud of the fact that he's gotten better at predicting how Tony moves so that he doesn't gag once or have to pin Tony's hips at all. He just angles himself to meet Tony's thrusts, making sounds of encouragement deep in his throat until Tony comes, spending hot inside him.

Steve presses a last kiss to Tony's flat abdomen before he elbow-crawls his way back up to brush Tony's lips with his fingers.

Tony's laying back, watching Steve with blissful eyes, but he turns toward the fingers Steve touches to his face and sucks them into his mouth with such abandon that it leaves Steve gasping, " _Tony_." He's panting in his own turn, captivated by Tony's hooded eyes as he laves his tongue over Steve's index finger. Those eyes are sparking with humor as Tony sucks Steve's first two fingers into his mouth, down to the root, letting his throat contract around the length of them.

Steve bucks against the mattress under him. "Fuck, Tony." He pulls his hand away and seizes Tony's mouth in a bruising kiss.

Tony makes a sound of approval, shifting against Steve until he gets his legs around Steve's waist, breaking the kiss to say, "So are you going to fuck me or are we just going to-" And Steve rolls them over, so that Tony's hips fall more tightly against his own, and kisses his way fiercely over Tony's neck and shoulders and chest again, Tony writhing above him and murmuring, " _Fuck_ , yes, oh, _there_ , oh god, _Steve_."

And Steve loves hearing his name on Tony's lips, the breath that forms it puffing lightly against his skin. Tony calls him all kind of nicknames, with endless variations, but he knows when Tony's getting down to business because then it's just _Steve_.

Steve pulls away to find the supplies, but he barely reaches for the bed stand before Tony slips a hand under one of the pillows and passes him the lube. Steve laughs softly into Tony's shoulder. "I'm starting to suspect you planned this."

Tony's the one who finishes searching in the bed stand drawer and passes Steve a condom, claiming his lips in another, quick kiss. "Captain, I have no idea what you mean," he says with a grin.

"Mhmm." Steve pulls Tony back to him, flipping him over Steve's body to land on the other side; having all this space is one of the benefits of the enormity of Tony's bed. Steve leans over Tony and kisses him, one hand gripping the firm muscles of Tony's calf and lifting his leg to hang over Steve's shoulder, so that Steve is lying between Tony's legs, sliding that hand now up along the underside of Tony's thigh and then down to the opening that is his destination.

Tony is watching him with eager eyes, which stutter closed as Steve presses his lubricated thumb against the puckered flesh, and Tony groans, a deep, guttural sound that makes Steve's insides flip over.

His own cock is throbbing with insistence, but Steve takes his time opening Tony up, ignoring Tony's repeated urging to _fucking do it already damn it Steve_ , because he loves this, loves Tony coming apart under his fingers, begging in his demanding way, always wanting more. And when he finally does shift his body up, aligning them, rolling down the condom, sliding inside- and Tony is pulling at him, _yes yes oh fuck yes Steve_ \- Steve sinks in and shivers, his face pressed into Tony's neck as he takes the moment and just _savors_.

"Hey." Tony's hands are stroking through his hair, one coming to rest on his cheek. "Hey, you okay? Steve?"

Steve turns to smiles at him. "Yes." He doesn't have the words to say that this is the most okay he's been in probably the entirety of his life- this place that he never thought he would ever reach. "Yes, I'm fine. Tony-" God, he wants to say something, to tell Tony how much this means to him. But his body is not in the mood to look for words and he moves against Tony so that both of them moan.

But Tony must see some part of it in his gaze, because he brushes his fingers down Steve's cheek and says, "Yeah. Me, too." He claims Steve's lips in a kiss, parting those lips to dive between and seek the taste of himself still lingering there.

Steve moans, and he's thrusting up against Tony, faster than he intended- he'd wanted to draw this out a bit more- but Tony breaks the kiss to say, "Yes, Steve, fuck- _harder_ , I want to feel you all day."

And something in Steve loses it at the thought of Tony thinking of him every time he shifts his weight or sits down, and Steve says, " _Tony_ ," brokenly, and his world has foregone additional words to be here- in the heated touch of flesh, in the warm smile before their lips meet again, in Tony's urgent hands pulling him closer.

He comes with a sigh, his face hidden in Tony's neck, every muscle tense, then, slowly, the tension leaving his body as he rolls to the side, raising a hand to cup Tony's cheek.

Tony grins at him lazily. He's got one hand working his own cock, hard again, and Steve leans in against him, reaching down a hand to help.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony murmurs as their combined hands bring him off, and Steve would agree that they've made a decadent, sweaty morning of it.

 He presses a kiss to the side of Tony's face, Tony turning into it so that their lips meet.

 

They get downstairs, eventually, and Steve is feeling so great he kind of wants to make an announcement. He wouldn't say they've been hiding but he's never been sure what to call this- what he has with Tony- so he hasn't told anyone; Tony hasn't really said anything, so Steve's pretty sure he's leaving it to Steve's discretion. Which just makes Steve want to shout it to the world _more_ , but, again, he's not sure what he'd say. Is Tony his fella? Is he Tony's? What does that mean, in this day and age? What does it mean to Tony? They should probably talk about this, but every time he thinks about it something happens to distract him, usually supervillain related.

When they get to the Assembly Hall, Tony's focus goes entirely to explaining to Thor the wormhole device he and T'Challa designed in the hopes of getting Thor home, so Steve lets personal matters fade to the back of his mind. He kind of feels bad pointing out that a wormhole device was something that existed in his time. But, it needed to be said.

It's a bit of a coincidence that there is activity along the ley lines at the exact moment that they're discussing this. It feels... contrived. But there's no arguing with reality, and no one knows that better than he does.

Reality is that the Avengers are soon spread across the planet, attempting to assist Thor in stopping Asgardian energy from causing some sort of dimensional rift. The focus turns out to be some magical stones called Norn Stones, and the stones are protected by the Masters of Evil. Steve finds himself facing off with Crimson Dynamo. It was a mistake, probably, to split their forces, but there wasn’t much else they could have done faced with seven locations and an equal priority on each.

Communications are down, and the landscape around them grows shaded and eerie, and there are... voices whispering, faces forming out of the mist. Faces that all too soon become familiar to him, over a landscape that is also reminiscent of the war. It's Jack Fury and the Howling Commandoes, wondering why he left them, telling him it’s time he stopped running and joined them, it's time to stop fighting and rest.

But if they aren’t on Earth anymore, and this is the land of the dead, where's Bucky? God, Bucky, who had been there with him through everything. Steve can't believe they won't be side by side in death as well.

There's a woman seated on a throne in the mist, and she smiles at him silkily. "I smell death on you, Steven Rogers."

Steve nods. Wasn't he just thinking the same? "We were going to die that day," he says. "Together. But he kicked me free." He shakes his head. "I'm not done," Steve says. "Hydra is still out there. There are still battles that need to be fought." He lifts his shield resolutely. "Whatever is going on with the Masters of Evil, these Norn Stones. It needs to be stopped."

"You think you can stop Loki? Mortal, you amuse me." The woman leans forward, her eyes narrowed as if she has suddenly had an interesting idea. "If I send you to confront Loki, you must offer me something in return."

Steve steals himself. "What do you want?"

She stands, smiling. "I will make you one offer, one chance to return to the battle. But if death should claim you in the fight with Loki, Steven Rogers your mortal spirit will belong to me. Forever."

Truly, there isn't a choice. If he doesn't take the deal, isn't he as good as dead anyway?

 

He comes to Asgard and he can see assorted Avengers standing around, in awe of the most monstrous creature Steve has ever seen. It's a wolf the size of a building, and everything it touches turns to ice.

Steve takes a deep breath, and hits it on the nose with his shield.

And everyone turns to him, hope renewed against an opponent that seemed unbeatable. He directs the Avengers in attacking the creature, until they bring it crashing to the ground, right through the wall of the throne room where a disgruntled Loki is attempting to gloat over a smug Thor whose expression reveals that he was quite certain they would pull through.

But it's not, precisely, that easy. Loki might be a bit big for his britches, but he's no pushover, and he's tossing challengers aside as quickly as they can attack him. He throws Hulk away, deflects both shield and arrows, and uses one opponent as a projectile to throw into another attacker like it’s a dance he’s planned. The spear he holds emits a powerful energy that throws them all back, sending Asgardian and mortal alike crashing to the floor.

"You ask me to surrender? You really have no idea with whom you speak, mortal." Loki stalks over to where Steve is lying on the ground, still gathering himself for another attack, and the pointed prongs of Loki's spear come down, stabbing into the shield, the vibranium alloy shattering under the weight of the force brought against it.

The blast throws him back, and Steve feels his heart seize in him. It's _not possible_ , but there it is, and it's real, this battle is real, he has the bruises to prove it, and he looks around him immediately, finding another shield to use as a replacement.

Loki sneers, and proceeds to ignore him. "You are less than nothing. Without Thor, who will save you?"

That's a good question. Steve would be the first to say that they don't actually need someone to save them: they're the Avengers, it's what _they_ do. But this battle has not been one they're exactly _winning_ in any sort of fashion other than that they're still able to get up and keep throwing themselves in. Steve doesn't have a problem with that; it's what he's here for, after all. But Loki's words need an answer.

And he gets one as a resounding, " _I_ will," rings through the throne room. And there's the one Avenger Steve had tried not to let himself be worried that they were still missing: Iron Man.

Steve feels his pulse thrill and he grins as Tony pronounces, "Avengers Assemble!"

Iron Man and Loki take to the sky to battle, and Steve grabs his makeshift shield and calls to the others, "Free Thor! Wasp, Hulk, with me."

After this, things go swiftly. Mostly, they are playing for time, and as they are able to redirect the Odinforce that Loki is losing control of, Odin himself wakes and finishes it.

When Odin leads the cheer _Hail Avengers!_ , Steve just turns to Tony and smiles.

Tony grins back. "Not too bad, team."

Steve feels his expression soften. "Not too bad yourself, Iron Man."

 

Steve's pretty sure Odin would love to get rid of them, but Thor's enthusiasm prevails- or perhaps the enthusiasm of his voluminous friend. Maybe it's just the confusion of having the people of several realms all displaced. But in the end, rather than toss them out, Odin hosts a massive feast.

The Avengers are pleased to attend, and Steve feels something in him ease as he watches them, seeing them all well after their battle, and enjoying themselves; Janet in particular is talking with a lady warrior he believes is called Sif, the conversation animated as they make toasts and discuss blows well struck, or perhaps flying horses.

Tony comes up behind him and leans on his shoulder and says, "We did okay, didn't we Cap." And having taken off his armor even Tony looks relaxed and pleased, and Steve leans over and lets his hand brush along the line of Tony's jaw. Tony grins up at him, and before he knows it Tony has him behind a massive pillar, kissing him passionately as he slides his hands down inside Steve's uniform.

 

Tony is everything warm that makes him _want_ to be alive in this world, not just doing the best job he can because that's what this soldier does. But when they return to Earth from Asgard, Steve takes the bag with the shards of the shield and goes to his room to be alone. He hasn't been there in a while, between the journey across the realms and all the time he's been spending with Tony, and he stands in the darkness for a while before he opens the zipper and takes a piece of the shield in his hands.

The shield is more than a tool. It's more than a symbol. It's more than a part of him. It's all of these things. It's not something he _needs_ in order to continue his life, but it's the last thing that remained to him of the life he'd left behind- the people he'd made promises to. At some point during the past few hours T'Challa said something to him about most smiths being unable to rework vibranium without special considerations, but Steve had barely even heard him, still too shell-shocked to even let himself acknowledge what had happened. But now... Now the sorrow weighs on him heavily.

"Steven Rogers," says a voice behind him.

Steve turns; he's supposed to be alone in this room- surely JARVIS would have said if there was someone else here?- and as alarm replaces sorrow, he finds himself looking at his own face, staring back at him over some sort of raygun.

The blast hits him in the chest, and Steve remembers no more.

 

He wakes in what can only be a prison, the room- _cell_ \- he is lying in is dim, and the doorway is obstructed with bars of energy. His wrists are bound with some sort of metal cuffs. He can hear the sounds of a large building around him- talking, distant yelling, and booted heels walking on metal floors- but he is alone. He remains alone for a long time.

Steve paces restlessly around the cell to which he is confined; it takes about twenty minutes to determine that he is indeed completely alone, there are no other objects in the room and no way to break any sort of weapon free of the structure of the walls.

It's probably been over twenty-four hours, judging by his level of hunger, before he sees anyone. Two men are walking down the hallway outside his door; he can hear their slow progress and as they come into sight he can see that they are stopping and placing flat trays of what is probably food in the opening beneath the lowest energy bar of each doorway they pass. He is struck by the fact that the men are _green_. He thinks of Hulk first, but the creatures are speaking to each other in a language that he doesn't understand- it doesn't sound remotely _human_ \- and one of them glares at how he is standing near the doorway. It yells at him and strikes the energy barrier with a device that causes it to spark. Steve steps back, arms rising in a guard position instinctively. But the creature just places the plate of food inside the door and moves on down the hall. Steve regards it with all the warmth the congealed substance could generate, but he eats it.

 

There are no cycles of day or night, that he can tell. After the first time, food is delivered through the door every twelve hours without fail. He sees no one but the ones who bring the food for eight days- sixteen deliveries.

 

Steve develops a routine of calisthenics, to give him an outlet and release of energy. But mostly to give him something to do other than _think_. Where is he? What is going on out in the world? How did they steal his face? Who has captured him? Are the Avengers close to finding him?

Too many variables. So he schools his body, and when his mind is forced to wander he directs it into the past rather than the indeterminable future.

 

Tony is the first question in his mind, but he is also part of what calms the questions. Steve has complete faith that when the Avengers notice he's gone, they will come for him, and they will find him. Tony won't stop looking for him.

 

 

Steve remembers the first time Tony came looking for him.

It had been in Steve's first month in the future; he'd been there maybe three weeks, and the mansion, the future, was starting to finally feel like it was real. Like there was a _possibility_ that Steve could learn to live in this world and _like_ it. At first, he'd fought against the strangeness of everything on principle, withdrawing and trying to cling to what he remembered of his life before and the people he'd left behind. But every night that he couldn't force himself to sleep more than the few hours he needed was one more stretch of endless hours that this world continued to _not_ be familiar. He told himself that he needed to at least _accept_ the fact that dying in the blast wave as Red Skull's rocket exploded and he'd crashed into icy water wasn't quite the ending he'd thought it would be, but the reality hadn't quite settled in his mind.

And one night in this impossible future, his dreams had woken him. Too scattered to focus on reading or drawing, Steve had headed down to the gymnasium to see if he couldn't run out the restless feeling until a more reasonable hour, when someone else might be awake to talk to. He'd been walking down the hall to the training area when Tony had leaned out of the hallway that lead over to his lab and armory, an intent look on his face. "Ah, there you are!" he had said, a hint of triumph in his voice. "Come with me," he'd beckoned.

Steve had stood for a moment, unsure. He knew Tony's armory wasn't far from the training center and during his earlier midnight jaunts Steve'd been concerned that his almost nightly restlessness might disturb Tony's work. JARVIS had assured him otherwise, but Steve had still been wary. Tony was a mass of contradiction- both easy to like and difficult to put up with, friendly but hard to get close to.

Tony had paused that night, looking back at Steve. "Unless I interrupted something," he'd added, but rather than abashed he had looked like someone caught in the middle of a problem that didn't quite want to solve itself. He had disappeared back through the doorway to his armory and, against his better judgement, Steve had followed him.

Tony's space was a swirl of chaos and things that Steve didn't hope he would ever be able to understand. That night, some sort of machinery had been hanging suspended in the air like a gutted animal. Steve was not surprised when that was what Tony moved in beside, his fingers quick and agile as he'd leaned in, reaching for a soldering iron with one hand, tongue caught between his teeth as he'd frowned in concentration. He had glanced up and seen Steve, and Steve had watched his face brighten as he’d lifted his face shield to say, "Oh good. Put your hand here." He had gestured with the soldering iron, and Steve had complied, holding two pieces close while Tony fixed them together.

Steve smiles to remember that night.

He'd assisted Tony in relative silence for what felt like maybe a half an hour, Tony's talking filling the quiet, his words washing over Steve. Steve hadn't understood but one in five words, and even the ones he'd known were words he'd still not comprehended with certainty when connected to the words that Tony put them with. But Steve had relaxed and they had fallen into an easy rhythm, Steve handing things to Tony, holding pieces for him, and when Steve had spoken on occasion, Tony had looked at him- a wondering, owlish kind of look perhaps, like he'd forgotten Steve was there- but he'd taken the fullness of his attention from what he was doing and devoted it to Steve's words, and he'd _answered_ Steve's admittedly snarky questions in good humor. When Tony talked to him directly, Steve found his words easier to understand.

JARVIS had interrupted them with a reminder that it was six AM and they might want to think about breakfast. Steve hadn't realized so much time had passed. He'd felt warm and comfortable and like he'd _belonged_ in this place.

"Sorry," Tony had said. "I didn't mean to keep you all night."

Steve had smiled. "I don't mind." It'd seemed strange, to leave that out there, so he had tried to explain a bit more. "I'm glad if I could help. And I don't sleep much anyway, because of the serum."

Tony had grinned, his words light and teasing. "So, that _is_ you I hear sneaking down to the gym every night?"

"Not every night," Steve had protested. "I was trying not to disturb you, but, on a night like tonight especially, it's hard to get back to sleep after the dreams, and I-" Steve had trailed off, remembering too late that he hadn't meant to bother anyone with his issues that were honestly not a big deal.

Tony had pierced him with a look. "I don't mind being disturbed," he'd said finally. "I mean, I don't-" He'd seemed uncomfortable and had run his hands roughly through his hair. "You can come in whenever you want to. If you want to." He had turned away, as if making the words a lie, but Steve had felt that it was the protective posture that was the lie, even then. "Sometimes, I can't sleep either. So I'm usually down here." Tony had smiled then, an easy smile, both an offering and a wall against the vulnerability he'd just confessed.

"Howard would be up all night in the lab sometimes." And Steve had known almost instantly that it was the wrong thing to say.

And the wall had gone up firmly and Tony's smile had melted into a small, fake thing. "So you're here for some nostalgia?" He had moved stiffly, the almost awkward jabbing of his fingers at the holographic interface an unnatural counterpoint to the grace of his movements when he had been deep in his work.

"No," Steve had protested. He'd taken a deep breath, determined to say this right. He found it both difficult to think of Tony as Howard's son, and difficult to see him as anything else. "I see a lot of him in you," Steve had said. "You both have a way of looking at things, and... and just seeing possibilities that other people couldn't imagine." Tony wouldn't even look at him, and Steve had wondered if he might have broken something he wasn't even sure what it was yet. But he'd pressed on to finish, "Howard was so filled with frustration, that the world couldn't match him, couldn't understand his vision. And I think that there is where you are the most different, Tony. You..." Steve had shaken his head with a smile, because he found it so amazing. "You're so _thrilled_ to see beyond what the rest of the world can see." Tony had looked at him in shock, his brilliant amber brown eyes thrown open wide. "I understand that you and Howard weren't close," Steve had said. "I like to think we were friends, but I don't want _you_ to think that you exist in his shadow at all, Tony. I _don't_ think of him when I look at you."

Silence had stretched between them for a long moment before Tony had smiled, slight and sardonic as far as the expression went, but still a smile that meant Steve's blunder was forgiven. "Thanks, I guess," Tony had said as they went to breakfast, and Steve had smiled back.

 

Steve closes his eyes as he thinks about the memory. He hears a sound in the hallway that brings him back to the present. It sounds like another prisoner being dragged down the hallway, yelling. His muscles tighten, in readiness–

But there's nothing he can do. He can't even see what's happening from his narrow view of the hall.

Steve sighs, and reaches for the memory of Tony's smile as he does another set of pushups.

 

 

Steve had tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the way that smile had curled Tony's lips.

He'd had a lot of practice ignoring his own urges. It wasn't something he'd talked about in his life; he'd always known it was _wrong_.

But, in this new world Steve had seen that some things have changed. Everywhere, sex is more open, more blatant of a topic.  It had been one of the more unnerving things for him at first; to see so much skin displayed publically seemed the highest level of indecent. But this was normal, no one batted an eye.

"What do you think?" Janet had asked at breakfast that morning after his night helping Tony. She had twirled in the middle of the kitchen, the soft clinging fabric of her new skirt flaring around her thighs. When it settled against her legs the uneven hem had reached to the top of her knee in some places but the fabric was cut with holes in patterns all the way up to just below the juncture of her legs so that Steve had been able to see the skin along the inside of her thighs. The top of it had ridden low along her hips. Honestly, all Steve had been able to think was that it was obscene to flaunt this garment in public.

Tony had grinned. "Very sexy, Jan. That from the fall collection?"

She had grinned back. "Yes! Vincent let me have it before it goes on sale, how amazing is that? He's such a sweet guy." She had looked at Steve hopefully.

Steve had smiled flatly. "It's very... nice," he had managed to get out.

Jan had beamed. "I'm gonna see if I can use it to lure Hank out of the lab. See you boys later!" She had sauntered off with a wink tossed over her shoulder. Steve had returned to his coffee, fairly certain Tony had been laughing at him.

So sex, in general, had become more open of a topic in the time that had passed while he slept frozen.

Steve had, on both of the occasions on which he had seen the man around the mansion, found that Doctor Banner spent his time almost exclusively in the company of Clint Barton. No one has said anything, there’s been no... communication or code that Steve could perceive; there’s just Barton's weighted gaze as the two of them met and Banner's shivery expectation as they walked down the hall toward Barton's room. Part of Steve thrilled with the desire to ask; he'd guarded himself too carefully, before, to have ever had something like that.

He'd seen men kissing each other on the television in this future, and then he'd seen it again open on the street, and Steve had started to think that maybe it wasn't just women who'd been slightly more liberated when it came to expressing sexual desire. Tony had seemed the logical person to ask, but he had been also, partly, the subject of the question. Steve had settled on Jan as his most fertile target for interrogation, and he'd been able to catch her alone at an early breakfast the next morning.

Jan had smiled at him over her coffee cup as he'd walked in; there had been a lazy pleasure to her smile, a languidity to her movements, that had made him think she had been successful in yesterday's quest.

"How are you this morning?" he had asked, politely.

Her grin had turned lascivious. "Not fit to talk about it without being more graphic than you probably want, Cap. And yourself?"

He'd started to blush, but Steve had also smiled. "I'm doing well, thank you." He almost hadn't, but something had made him add, "You look like Tony with that grin. I'd say it was like a cat with cream, but it's a bit too big for even that."

Janet had laughed, the light, amused sound startled out of her. "I'll take that as a compliment," she had said, "but I hardly think I'm anywhere near Tony's standards when it comes to the 'night moves.'" She had laughed again, but it had seemed to be at a reference Steve didn't get, so he'd just moved on.

"Ah. So he-" was all Steve had to say and Jan had opened up like a faucet left running.

"Oh my god, you weren't even here were you? Tony used to be such a slut, pardon my language. He was famous in society circles just for that, never mind the fact that he's rich and handsome and a certified genius, too. Of course I've known him for ages. He used to go through women, a different one every night. Honestly, I don't know how Pepper ever put up with him. I know I wanted to chew him out more than once, but it's harder to yell at your boss."

Steve had managed to edge in with, "Used to?"

"Yep, since Afghanistan he's been different." She'd stopped and looked at Steve, as if to gauge what he knew about that, but Steve had nodded; he’d heard about what had happened in Afghanistan. "I mean, he's still an outrageous flirt, but he rarely takes anyone home anymore." Janet had rolled her eyes. "I mean I kind of get it, but I don't really. He's still hot. The scars can't be that bad, right? And it's not like a lot of people would care."

Steve had been disturbed to think that Tony would wall himself off because of something so superficial, though he had thought that maybe Jan hasn't quite grasped the situation correctly; Steve was certain he knew more than she did about the kind of trauma that an experience like that could produce. He had been rather disheartened by Jan's mention of so many women, but had seen an opportunity to turn the conversation a different way. "I suppose everyone has their own preferences when it comes to relationships. This team is certainly more... interpersonal than any squad I've been on before," he'd said noncommittally. "As long as it doesn't interfere, I suppose there's no harm." He had raised an eyebrow, and added, "Doctor Banner and Agent Barton seem to be making it work."

And Jan had been off again. "Oh my god, those two are adorable. They think I don't know, but it's so obvious! It's nice, when people can make each other happy." She had smiled and paused to take a drink of her coffee, when something seemed to occur to her and she had slid a protective glare along toward Steve. "You... You're okay, right? With Clint and Bruce? I mean, if you're not I think Hulk'll just beat you up, Captain America or not, but I know that it used to be illegal."

Steve had smiled. "I don't know why you youngsters think you invented sex. We had all types back then, we were just more... discreet."

Jan had laughed and gone back to her coffee.

And Steve had taken his new knowledge and contemplated it. When another midnight ramble had taken him past Tony's lab he had peeked in and been warmly welcomed. Tony had been working on something having to do with nanobots that night, so mostly Steve had just kept him company rather than assisting. It had been... easy. Tony liked to talk. The more Steve had listened the more he had understood. There was a percentage of what Tony said that went right over his head, and Steve was certain that no matter how long he lived here it always would, but Tony had seemed to be used to that. He hadn't expected Steve to listen all the time, so when Steve had made pertinent responses Tony had been surprised, and pleased, and he had grinned as he answered back. Steve had found himself sketching on a scrap of paper he’d discovered in a packing box.

The next time he'd come down he'd brought his sketchbook. Hank and Tony had spent most of that afternoon arguing about something Steve couldn't even begin to explain, but he had filled the paper with their faces, and the rest of the team, sketching from memory. If Tony had been featured more heavily he hadn't thought anyone would notice.

It had been from an unrelated conversation with Hank that Steve had learned that most of the questions he asked Tony could have been answered by JARVIS, or anyone with a Physics 101 textbook. And also that Tony had several robots he had constructed which could assist him with holding and fetching things around the lab. That night, when he had come in search of Steve, there had been no need for him to seek out Steve's company. It made something inside of Steve sing with a soft but powerful resonance.

 

 

 

Steve is thinking about that time of uncertainty, before he'd allowed himself to truly seek Tony, when he hears something outside the door of his cell. He is immediately tense; it is not time for the food distribution.

A light comes on over him, brightening the dimness of the cell and blinding him momentarily. The cuffs around Steve's wrists pull him up and into the air, his arms spread so that he cannot fight back and his feet unable to get purchase on the ground. The energy field barring the door vanishes. Three of the green creatures walk into his cell, two of them flanking the third. Steve wants to crack a smile- _little green men_ \- but the central figure is carrying, on a floating device beside him, an unpleasant looking piece of work that he begins to fix over his hand. Steve braces himself, because he's never seen someone who more perfectly filled the role of inquisitor.

But the Inquisitor merely stands for a long moment, looking at him. Steve pulls against his bonds slightly; faced with this he wants to get it over with. "What do you want?" he asks.

The Inquisitor smiles, a slow and oddly reptilian baring of teeth. "We already have everything we want from you," the creature says. "But perhaps there is something you'd like to tell us?" And he raises the device on his hand.

 

It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, Steve thinks as they leave him. He's lying in a heap on the floor where they dropped him, and it takes a moment before he can gather his arms under him to draw himself up to a seated position. It's _not_ , but it's not a cakewalk either. He breathes deeply, focusing. He'd been recounting to himself his and Tony's relationship, trying to keep his mind focused, linear, but he thinks he might skip ahead and indulge his throbbing, twitching body with a pleasant memory.

 

 

For all that his every interaction with Tony had been fueled by his knowledge of his own deviant desires, when it had finally _happened_ it had taken Steve by surprise.

Kang the Conqueror had appeared, right in Tony's armory, and had informed the Avengers that Captain America was going to destroy the world.

It had struck Steve with the weight of a physical blow- he had known he hadn't belonged here, that he and the future weren't supposed to exist together. But could he really believe this man who said he was from a future where Steve had caused a cataclysm that would destroy the sun and all life on Earth? Steve couldn't imagine a choice that he could make that would have caused something like the empty wasteland that had stretched around them in Kang's vision.

But if there was one thing living in the future had taught Steve, it was that there was more that was possible than what he could imagine. So, he couldn't make this decision.

But Tony could. Steve would abide by Tony's decision, whatever it was, because he believed that Tony was a good man, a man who himself read the future like Steve read the newspaper, a man who had stepped forward to fill a need that needed to be filled. He had created the Avengers, and Steve believed that he would see them through whatever came against them.

But he would have been a liar if he'd said that Tony's faith in _Steve_ didn't touch him. Tony had chosen Steve and the possible coming destruction over a future without Steve. The others' faith was in Steve as well, over the dark future that Kang had promised would come, and Steve felt warm. Though there wasn't really time for feelings, and Steve had taken charge, directing them to follow their strengths in battle, pushing Tony toward the true goal, the only way they would defeat Kang: by taking his power and making it their own.

And after, Tony had already been in his armory, throwing pieces of the suit furiously against the wall as he tore it from his person to reveal the black undersuit. Steve had walked up behind him, unheard, and when Tony had turned around and seen him the bluster of anger had melted out of him. He had looked at Steve with such longing that Steve had reached out and put his hand on Tony's shoulder, physically unable to stop himself from closing the distance between them.

Tony had been stiff under his hand as if he'd been about to pull away, but Steve had pulled him closer. Tony had sighed and turned to press his face into the curve of Steve's shoulder. "I thought he was going to kill you and I wasn't going to be fast enough to stop him," he had said. "I... I couldn't figure out his tech. I'm useless, I..."

"You learned it," Steve had replied, the frown in his voice enough to cut off Tony's self-denunciation. "You figured it out and you saved us." His voice had been heavy with the knowledge, but Steve had thought that maybe he should say the words, too. "I knew you would, Tony."

Tony had shuddered against him, and pulled back enough to raise his hands and take Steve's face between them. There had been an almost mad light in his eyes. "Steve, I..." He had swallowed. "If I can't do it next time, I don't want to have to live with that."

Steve had looked down at him and he'd been so filled with the strength of his desire he couldn't help leaning forward slightly; he'd wanted to kiss that fear away from Tony's eyes, he'd wanted to know what Tony tasted like. He had caught himself before lips met skin and had swallowed. Words, words would put up a barrier, would give his lips something else to do. "You won't. Tony, you won't disappoint me. You never have."

The barrier hadn't seemed to be working because the next thing he had known Tony had made a soft, pained sound in his throat, and then he'd been kissing Steve.

It had taken Steve a moment to gather his thoughts back from the place he had pushed all of the things he had tried not to allow himself to consciously think about, the feel of Tony's lips being one of those things, and by the time he had gathered those thoughts Tony had pulled away.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he had said, looking stricken. "Steve." The last word was practically a moan, and he had kissed Steve again, his hands had reached to bury themselves in Steve's hair, and this time Steve had enough presence of mind to _respond_ , and his arms had come up around Tony, using this to pull Tony closer, hard against him, the arc reactor an unyielding reminder against his chest, and he had kissed Tony like the world was ending.

Lips, tongue, teeth, and suddenly Tony had pulled back, had gasped for breath, and he had looked at Steve like one of them had lost their mind. "You..." Tony had said, but hadn't seemed in a hurry to finish the sentence.

"I'd rather kiss you again than talk about it just now," Steve had replied.

Tony had nodded, and their lips had met again. The rough scratch of his cheek had sent a shiver of want through Steve. He'd stumbled back a step, seeking support, and had found the table he thought he'd remembered. He'd leaned back against it, his hands coming up along Tony's back, one reaching up to slide through Tony's hair and pull him closer.

Tony's hands had pressed against Steve's uniformed chest, and he had slid one hand down Steve's body to cup the bulge of Steve's erection. Steve had moaned against Tony's lips and Tony's fingers had eagerly worked Steve's fly open and stroked him. Tony's black undersuit had looked skintight, and without any sort of clasp that Steve could see, but Steve never doubted that Tony had his ways and, indeed, almost before he'd realized it Tony had his hand wrapped around both their cocks together and he'd started to stroke. Steve had shuddered at the novel sensation, soft skin over hard flesh rubbing against his own and Tony's experienced fingers _everywhere_. Tony's forehead had been pressed into Steve's neck and Steve had heard him murmuring, "God, Steve, yes," the words slipping from his mouth.

Steve had shivered and spread his feet wider. He had thrust up against Tony's weight leaning on top of him, and Tony had moaned, a deep, throaty sound that instantly made Steve harder. He hadn't been aware a human voice could make such a sound. He had brushed hair back from Tony's face tenderly and pressed kisses over Tony's cheek to trace his tongue along the shell of Tony's ear. Steve had honestly not been sure of what he was doing, but tasting as much of Tony as he could had seemed a good place to start.

Tony's hand had continued stroking, a tight pressure around the stiff and sensitive length of Steve's cock, but the rhythm of it hadn't been consistent. Steve had felt that Tony had gotten a bit too distracted, so he had helped out, had wrapped his own hand over Tony's. The tight pressure as their cocks had been pressed together even more, the knowledge that _he'd_ been the one doing it, had made Steve let out a hearty moan. Tony's head had come up and he had looked at Steve, his eyes glazed with lust. He had attacked Steve with his tongue and his free hand, seeking out all sensitive places. Steve had shivered and moaned again as Tony kissed the hollow of his throat; he'd yelped and moaned louder as Tony had nipped his neck, just behind the jaw, and he'd been panting as Tony's tongue laved over the recently abused flesh. 

Steve's thrusting had become erratic, and Tony's hand had tightened, Tony's lips had become more demanding, and Steve had come. There had been no warning, even for him, and he had thought at that moment that it had been more decades than he had lived since the last time he'd come. It had sobered him enough to pull him down from his high quickly enough that he had been looking at Tony when his own climax hit him. Tony's eyes had been closed and Steve had watched as Tony soundlessly mouthed his name before his hand tightened on Steve's shoulder, tangling in the cloth of Steve's uniform, and he came.

Steve's breathing had evened out fairly quickly and all he had been able to do was sit there and watch Tony and think about how amazing Tony was. And he had realized that there was no way he could have walked upstairs at that moment with his uniform covered in evidence of this tryst. It had been right between that thought and an absent wondering if anyone had noticed that he and Tony had been hiding in the armory, that Steve had looked up and realized the door had been wide open.

Anyone could have walked in on them, and Steve had blushed hard. Tony had been staring at him and Steve hadn't even been sure Tony had noticed the door until Tony had said, "JARVIS, did anyone get an eyeful?"

"It would not appear so, sir. Everyone retired to their own rooms with alacrity after disembarking. Ms van Dyne placed a call to Ms Foster and they are both with Thor in the media room."

Tony had made a noncommittal sound and had continued staring at Steve. The look on his face had been somewhere between stunned and anticipatory. Steve had wondered what Tony could have been waiting for; maybe for it to sink in?

Steve had met Tony's gaze; he'd almost been able to see the calculations happening behind those eyes. He had no idea what they had been calculating in that moment but he had already felt Tony pulling away. Steve hadn't been able to even put words to how sad that made him.

Steve had reached up and cupped his hand against Tony's cheek. He hadn't been asking for anything, really, he had just wanted to enjoy every moment of this if this was all he was going to get. Tony's beard had scratched against his skin and Steve had leaned in to press his face against that texture, had rubbed slightly before he had turned his head and kissed the side of Tony's jaw. It hadn't been enough and Steve had taken the soft skin between his teeth and had nibbled up the edge of Tony's jawline.

Tony had gasped, his free hand clutching at Steve's shoulder, and he had pressed against Steve. His face had turned and sought Steve's mouth and they had kissed again. Tony had been pressing against him more tightly; their hands still twined together around their softening cocks has become somewhat of an impediment to their getting closer. Steve hadn't wanted to be the first to pull away, but both their hands had been covered in semen, and Steve had taken Tony's wrist in his own hand and had lifted Tony's fingers to his lips. He'd never tasted semen before; while not his new favorite thing, the taste hadn't been unpleasant. The way Tony's breathing had stuttered, his eyes fixated on Steve's lips, a moan he hadn't even appeared consciously aware of making slipping from his throat, had all been far more important details to Steve; these were certainly enough for him to make putting Tony's fingers in his mouth his new favorite activity.

"Fuck, Steve," Tony had breathed; blown pupils had made his eyes look black. "Now I know I'm hallucinating." He had leaned in, had kissed his way over Steve's fingers, and had licked up their seed, getting it smeared all in his beard.

Steve had registered his words after a moment and pulled his hand away. "What?"

Tony had frozen, sobriety dimming his arousal. He had swallowed and protested, "I didn't say anything. As you were, soldier." Steve had frowned, and Tony had muttered a curse. He has leaned against Steve, nose pressed to his neck. "Please, just, can we finish what I've been dreaming about since I was twelve, and then afterward we can deal with whatever post-mission temporary insanity has come over you? Please." His voice had almost begged; his breath had been a soft puff of air against Steve's throat.

"Tony." Steve hadn't even been really sure where to begin. "I'm not... this isn't a temporary thing. I mean, I... I care about you." The words had seemed almost wrong, but the actuality of them had been correct. Steve had buried his nose against Tony's face, skin pressed to skin, and he had nibbled on the edge of Tony's goatee.

"Oh fuck," Tony had moaned. He'd been shivering and muttering, "oh god, Steve, please, _fuck_."

"Your _mouth_ ," Steve had muttered, and kissed him again.

His hands had slipped around Tony's body to pull him closer, and whatever pulling away Tony had been about to do seemed forgotten as he murmured against Steve's lips, " _Yes_ , Steve."

Steve had shifted his weight, which seemed to have pulled Tony out of his reverie and return the calculating cast to his eyes. Steve had reached out to touch him, but his fingers were a sticky mess. Actually, all of him was a sticky mess.

He must have made a face because Tony had laughed; the sound had been giddy and almost hysterical. He had taken Steve by the wrist and lead him toward a breakroom in the back of the armory. There was a decontamination shower in the corner by the door and beyond that a sink and small fridge near a futon folded up into its couch position.

They had stripped and washed up in the shower. Steve had been surprised to discover that Tony was slightly body shy, turning away as if to shield Steve from having to view the web of scars that surrounded the arc reactor in his chest. Steve had frowned and had, wordlessly, taken Tony by the shoulders and turned him until they were facing each other. Tony had looked up at him defiantly, but almost immediately looked away. Steve had sighed softly; truly it had been an unconscious exhalation of breath, frustration at the way people seemed so caught up in his _body_ now that he had one, and he hadn't wanted that from Tony, hadn't thought Tony was concerned with that from him. But Tony had heard him, and his eyes had shot back up to lock with Steve's in challenge. He'd leaned in, leaned up to press their lips together, and Steve had wrapped one arm loosely around Tony's shoulders as he'd kissed him back with enthusiasm. Steve had wanted to kneel under the spray of water and spend hours slowly kissing his way up the lean, corded muscles of Tony's legs, but it had been a long day so he settled for one last kiss as they drew apart, and had contented himself with Tony's smile.

By the time they had been done showering the exhaustion of the day had overcome them. There had been spare sweat pants stashed in the closet, and then Tony had dragged him over to the futon and they had curled up on it. It had been a tight fit, but Tony hadn't said anything about folding the futon down. He had been wedged in between the back and Steve's chest as Steve had pulled a sheet over them.

"JARVIS, lights," Tony had said sleepily, and the overhead lights had dimmed away to barely nothing; the main light still present in the room had come from the arc reactor. Tony had covered it with his hand almost self-consciously. Steve had wrapped his arm around Tony's chest, had covered Tony's hand with his own. His lips had brushed through Tony's hair, and it had been about there that Steve had fallen asleep.

 

Steve hadn't sleep long, but when he had woken he hadn't moved. Tony had been warm in his arms, and still pliant with sleep. Steve had pressed his lips to the top of Tony's head and thought through the events of the past hours. He knew that for all Tony's ego and bluster his self-esteem wasn't strong, and he had seemed convinced that Steve couldn't really possibly want to be with him for longer than five minutes. Steve knew Tony's reputation for short relationships, but he had promised himself in that moment that he wouldn't let _Tony_ tell him what _he_ wanted. Steve had known even then he wanted more: he wanted whatever Tony was willing to give him, and he was fairly certain Tony wanted it, too. He had dozed then, content to hold Tony warm against him.

There was no clock that Steve had seen, but he had thought that it was mid-morning when JARVIS had woken them. "Sir, Ms van Dyne is looking for you."

Tony had half turned in Steve's arms, made a discontented noise in JARVIS' direction, and plastered his face against Steve's chest. It had taken him a few minutes before it had registered.

Tony's eyes had flown open and he had looked up at Steve. "Shit," he had said, his voice scratchy and breathy. "You _are_ real." He had reached up and cupped Steve's face between his hands. "You're really you. And you're here."

Steve had smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." He had run his fingers up Tony's side and dared to be bold when he added, "There's a few things we didn't get to last night."

Desire had been strong on Tony's face and he had kissed Steve fiercely. "JARVIS, tell Jan to fuck off. I have appointments all day."

 

They went upstairs, Steve mostly in search of breakfast, and Steve was thankful that they didn't run into anyone else as they passed through the kitchen. He hadn't wanted to hide... whatever this was, but he hadn't been ready to face anyone with it before he even knew what to call it.

In Tony's room, Steve had backed him up against the closed door and kissed Tony again. Tony was really good at kissing, and Steve found every new kiss a deeper revelation, a truer reflection of the desire within him.

It had been a bit of a blur of lips and hands, and the next clear thought Steve had he was standing next to Tony's bed, Tony kneeling in front of him. He had his lips spread around the head of Steve's cock, and his eyes had looked up into Steve's with such mischief.

"Tony," he had said, feeling a bit like he had vertigo.

Tony had leaned back, his lips releasing their hold to purse and ask, "Too much?"

"No. I..." Steve hadn't been terribly experienced, but he was aware of a certain hierarchy to the exchange of acts. Before Project Rebirth, no man would have put their mouth on him. After, Steve had taken even more care to pretend that it wasn't something he'd ever wanted to happen. "You don't have to," he'd said, not certain his words had been heard. He hadn't wanted Tony to think that he expected this.

"Steve. I _want_ to." Tony had looked up, his eyes so full of desire, _hunger_ , that Steve had been taken aback. He'd nodded, and Tony had tumbled the pair of them back to the bed, the long, hard, muscled length of him pressed all against Steve as they'd kissed. They'd been chest to chest the night before, but the muscles in Tony's legs cried out for his fingers, and Steve had run his hands down the outside of Tony's thighs as Tony had spread his legs to bracket Steve's hips, pushing Steve down as they kissed.

Steve had wished for his sketchbook in that moment, because Tony was so beautiful. Steve knew what his own body looked like, but Tony, Tony was magnificent. He had come through so much and had refused to let any of it stop him. Every scar was a testimony to Tony's iron will, and Steve wanted to tell him so, but instead he just presses those lips to every inch of skin he could reach.

Tony had slid down between his legs and set to providing Steve with the most amazing experience he'd ever felt. And after demonstrating the proper technique for giving a blowjob, Tony had patiently taught him as Steve returned the favor.

And Steve was amazed that giving felt just as amazing as receiving. He'd thought that he knew, that what he wanted was shameful, but Tony had no shame about anything he desired and his boldness had translated to Steve, so that he'd _understood_ Tony's eagerness, his insatiability.

 

 

By the time he's done remembering that night and the following day, the lingering aftereffects of the device have faded and his dinner has arrived. Steve looks over at the small plate of gruel. He doesn't want to eat it, but he takes a deep breath and goes over and does. After he eats it, he does a series of pullups, hanging from the bars in the ceiling. He needs to keep his body as ready as he can.

 

 

Steve had woken in Tony's bed alone, but he hadn't even been able to be mad about it when he'd found Tony in the Assembly Hall with Hank, excitedly going over the data from Kang's chair. And they spent most of the week following that initial encounter with Kang doing mostly that. Steve had wondered if Tony was trying to avoid him, but deciphering Kang's technology was a legitimate team need, so he hadn't pushed too hard.

And when Kang had returned, it had felt kind of anticlimactic. Yes, the peril had been just as great if not greater, but they had already sent this adversary running. Steve hadn't doubted that they could do it again, and with greater finality.

He wasn't sure if Tony hadn't shared his conviction or if... well, Tony had said how he wasn’t much of a futurist to a man from the future, and he had seemed more pensive and unresponsive than usual as they had returned to the mansion after having delivered Kang to 42.

Back at the mansion they had split up, Tony to his armory and Steve upstairs, and when Steve had come down to find Tony he’d found the armory empty. Steve had run his hand over the edge of the table they had rutted against the other day, and cleared his throat. "JARVIS, do you know where Tony is at?"

"Of course, Captain."

Steve had blinked. "Can... you tell me?"

There had been a slight hesitance. "Mister Stark is in his bedroom."

Steve hadn't been certain why that had hurt him. Maybe Tony was tired; God knew he'd barely slept in the past week. Maybe he hadn't wanted company. But it had still hurt. "JARVIS," Steve had asked hesitantly, "is he alright?" Tony had seemed fine, but Steve asked, "Was he injured in the fight?"

"He was not injured, Captain." And JARVIS had continued, with the insight that made Steve constantly forget that he wasn't real, "I believe Mister Stark has retreated from the field, as it were, in order to prevent an occurrence of injury."

Steve had blinked. "He-" he had started to say, but had remembered the list of one night stands Jan had given him, Tony's own vanishing act the next morning after the amazing day they had spent together after Kang's first appearance. And he'd remembered his own imperative to not let Tony tell him his own limits. "Thank you, JARVIS."

Steve had walked purposefully up to Tony's room and had knocked on the door. When Tony had answered he had obviously neither been expecting nor pleased to see Steve. But Steve had steeled his resolve and stepped into the room. Tony had been cagey and purposefully flippant, but Steve had refused to rise to the bait and had kept himself to the bare facts: "I'll go if you want me to, just say the word. But I'm not done if you're not."

And Tony had said, "Stay." He had breathed it against Steve's lips and it had echoed through Steve like music, and had made his heart beat more quickly.

 

 

 

The Inquisitor returns twenty-four hours later. Steve's fairly certain it's a fixed standing appointment, though he doesn't have any way of measuring time other than the regular delivery of the food.

But the Inquisitor comes to him every day that week. Every day he stays a bit longer. Every day the pain is a bit more intense. Whatever the creature's doing isn't actually causing any damage; it seems to bypass physical damage and go straight to his brain to make him scream in agony.

Steve's glad for that. When he can finally get his muscles to stop trembling afterward, he goes through his routine of calisthenics and he's glad this routine isn't impeded. He needs to be ready, when the opportunity for escape presents itself.

 

 

It had been the night after Tony, Thor, and T'Challa got back from their adventure with an artefact Thor called the Casket of Ancient Winter, that Tony had first pushed Steve for something.

They'd been lying in bed, Tony's hand pressing their cocks together lazily. He had nipped Steve's lower lip and said, "I want you to fuck me."

Steve had shivered at the thought, though it was also a common response when Tony swore too much. He hadn't asked before, because he'd been waiting for Tony to offer. And it wasn't like they'd been together long enough to have even gotten through every technique Tony could do with his _hands_ much less anything else, so Steve hadn't been feeling cheated or anything. But Tony had been watching him carefully in that moment, and Steve had wondered if his long silence had made Tony think he didn't want to. "I want to fuck you," Steve had replied immediately, just as quickly blushing. "If that's what you want."

Tony had moaned, and he had thrown both arms around Steve's neck. "Yes," he'd breathed, "god, yes. _Steve_."

Steve had let his hands slide down Tony's body until he’d been tracing the line between his legs from sac to hole. He'd shivered against Tony's lips. "I've never-" he'd begun, pretty sure Tony already knew, and sure enough Tony had kissed him silent.

"We'll go slow," he'd promised, and shivered in his own turn. "Fuck, Steve. Okay, here." He'd scrambled away to reach for supplies. Steve had barely been paying attention, instead kissing his way down Tony's flat abdominal muscles and over the outside of his thigh. _These legs_ , Steve had thought. He had run one hand down to circle his fingers around Tony's ankle, then run it back up, brushing the hair the wrong way. Tony had shuddered, gooseflesh rippling over his skin, as he’d slid back down against Steve. "Fuck," he'd murmured against Steve's lips.

Steve had shaken his head. "Your _mouth_ ," he'd complained. "I could wash it out with soap."

Tony had chuckled, not the least abashed. "Only if you stop with the raw egg diet on your end, Foxy Grandpa. Here," he had deposited a quantity of lube on Steve's fingers. "Start with those two," he'd instructed. "You remember how I did you?"

Steve had nodded, sliding his hand between Tony's legs and pressing his fingers along the rim of his opening.

"Shit," Tony had murmured. He has leaned into Steve, his breath hot against Steve's throat. "Shit, Steve," he'd said again, helplessly, and Steve had pressed the tip of the finger against the rim of muscle and into the hole, earning him a desperate groan from Tony.

Steve had shivered, murmuring softly, "Tony," his face pressed against the top of Tony's head. His hair had smelled like ice, having spent all day battling winter, and sweat, and under that a scent somewhat like motor oil but milder that Steve had come to think of as one of Tony's defining scents. He had the second finger pressed against the rim of Tony's opening, but he found himself slipping it in what felt like it was too quickly. "You okay?" He'd pressed his lips to Tony's temple.

Tony's response had been a guttural moan. One of his hands was curled around Steve's shoulder and his fingers had tightened. He'd pushed himself up onto his knees and his other hand, and as Steve had looked down the length of his body he’d realized that the hard brand he'd felt pressed against his stomach was Tony's cock. His own had twitched in recognition. Tony had been flushed, and as he'd looked down at Steve he'd lifted his hand from Steve's shoulder and cupped his face. "Yeah," he'd answered Steve's question, and he'd pushed back against Steve's fingers.

Steve had slid his other hand over Tony's thigh, trying to hold him still, but Tony had demanded, "Work those fingers, Cap. I'm not going to last forever and I want you in me."

And so he had, spreading his fingers to stretch the opening and sliding a third one in. Tony had nipped him hard, under the jaw, and had pressed back against Steve's fingers, fucking himself on them.

It had been the first time, so as soon as Tony had said he was ready Steve had positioned his condom-covered erection to push up into him, gasping with the sudden heat of Tony all around him and biting his lip to keep from thrusting up harder. "Oh, _Tony_ ," he'd moaned, and his hands on Tony's hips were hard enough to bruise.

Tony had fallen forward against him, twitching and muttering "fuck, fuck, god, _yes_ , Steve," under his breath, and Steve had raised a shaking hand to brush the hair back from Tony's face to look at him. Tony's eyes had been bright, thin golden rings around wide black pupils, and he'd breathed Steve's name with enough raw desire that the word had almost sounded like an orgasm in and of itself. But it wasn't, he'd actually flagged a bit at the act of penetration, and Steve had set to rousing him back to the point of completion.

After a moment Tony had started moving against him, and Steve had helped guide him, his strong arms lifting Tony even as he'd thrust against him. Tony's forehead had been pressed to Steve's shoulder, his muttered litany indistinguishable as words, and he'd reaches one hand to curl it around Steve's neck and pull him into a kiss.

Steve had gasped into that kiss as his orgasm had hit him unexpectedly, Tony hot and suddenly too much to resist, all surrounding him, and Tony had murmured something that sounded like victory as Steve had come inside him, Tony following him a moment later.

They'd been sweaty and pressed together, their breathing too fast but evening out, and Tony had reached out to touch Steve's face and he'd smiled, an expression of warm contentment that made Steve's heart ache with the feeling of _yes, me too_.

 

It had been the next morning when Steve had woken filled with energy and an itch to go running. He'd pushed himself up from the bed and looked over at Tony sleeping deeply. He hadn't wanted to wake him, but he'd known with certainty that he couldn't leave Tony to wake up alone after a night like that. He had run his hand over the firm muscle of Tony's shoulder and trailed his fingers down Tony's back. "Tony." He'd leaned in to press his lips to the high curve of Tony's cheek. "Wake up."

Tony had stirred, grumbled, and pulled himself more tightly away from the interruption of his sleep. Steve had laughed and pulled Tony toward him, yanking him out of his cocoon of blankets and rolling him on his back. Steve had kissed him, full on the lips.

Tony had come awake under him, responding unconsciously, and, once he'd awakened enough to fully recognize Steve, he'd reached up to thread his hand through Steve's hair and had moaned eagerly into the kiss.

Steve had smiled as their lips parted. "I was going to go get in a quick run," he'd said, "but I couldn't leave without waking you." He'd kissed Tony again, long and deep.

"Mm," Tony had practically purred at him. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast after." And he'd reached forward for another quick, bruising kiss before he'd let Steve go.

Steve had headed to the passage to the lower levels, but had been sidetracked when he'd found Clint perched on the counter in the kitchen talking to Jan. Clint's eyes had snapped up to him as Steve had passed by the room, and Steve had realized there were things about his appearance he might have wanted to conceal. Like the generally disheveled state of his hair, his silly grin, and the spot under his jaw where Tony had bit him that'd still been red. He and Tony hadn't yet talked about what this relationship meant, and how to present it to the others.

Clint's eyebrows had hit his hairline, and his throat had worked without making a sound.

Jan had smirked at Steve. "Way to go, Cap! Who's the lucky lady?"

Steve had blushed, and cleared his throat nervously. Why hadn't they talked about this? They should definitely have talked about this. "Just headed to the gym, soldier."

Jan had pouted. "Spill Cap! What's her name?"

Clint had cleared his throat. "Jan, drop it." She had shot him an odd look and Clint had smiled evilly; Steve had decided he should probably be worried. "Hey, Cap. Panther had some Hydra report I think you'd find interesting, in the Assembly Hall."

"Thank you, Clint. I'll check it out." Steve had watched Clint with one eye as he'd moved on, and the archer had looked smug as he eventually followed Steve downstairs.

T'Challa had been the one who'd noticed that Hydra's presence in the city had been increasing. Clint had been the one who'd wanted to call Steve; Steve thought the proper phrase was "getting the old band back together." But in that moment there hadn't really been a specific location to target, unlike when Clint had tracked Black Widow to Hydra Island, so they'd discussed it but hadn't really formed any sort of plan.

The "discussion" had somehow evolved to involve the entire team, and, before Steve had really been certain what had happened, the team was betting on Clint making the most impossible shot that Steve had ever seen. But Steve has faith in his teammate's abilities and he hadn't doubted Clint. Not for a moment. Of course it hadn’t just ended up being a simple team-building exercise, learning each other’s abilities. The lights had gone out, the Black Widow had shown up, and AIM and Hydra had been tearing the city apart fighting over the Cosmic Cube, a device that could take one’s deepest desires and make them reality.

Steve had found fighting Hydra easy, and familiar- even if it had also been exhausting, because hadn't he died to destroy the Red Skull's dream? At least he’d been presented with a moment to affirm a teammate.

His shield had taken out a Hydra-bot, crashing into its “eye” and causing the interior mechanics to explode.

“Humph. Lucky shot,” Hulk had said coming up behind him.

Steve had grinned. “If you say so. Keep an eye out for civilians, make sure we get them out of the line of fire.”

Hulk had bristled. “That why you teamed up with me? To protect people from the _monster_?”

Steve had frowned. “I don’t give the job of protecting civilians to monsters,” he’d said matter-of-factly. “In fact, Hydra is the only monster I see here. As for me, I only give jobs to heroes. People who always do the right thing. People like you.” Hulk had seemed a little flummoxed, but they needed to get back to their job so Steve had added, “Now, how about we smash some more Hydra goons?”

Hulk had grinned.

The fight had faded into a certain monotony, until Steve had found himself barreling through a window and attacking Baron von Strucker, tackling him away from the Cosmic Cube. Strucker’s hand to hand technique was laughably terrible, but he’d faked unconsciousness and been able to get his right hand on Steve’s face. His power sucking Satan Claw had thrown Steve for a loop for a moment, but he’d managed to bring his shield up after getting his bearings back and break Strucker’s hold.

The arrival of the other Avengers had coincided with the floor giving way, and they had fallen into the lower level of the building, Strucker battling to reach the Cosmic Cube first. He’d sapped quite a bit of strength from Steve, but it hadn’t mattered- hadn’t stopped him from giving everything he had left to stop this evil from happening.

It has been Hawkeye’s arrow that had pinned Strucker in place by the Satan Claw on his right arm, but Strucker had broken free and sprinted across the room. Steve had followed him, and he probably hadn’t been the only one holding his breath as they had both touched the Cosmic Cube at the same time.

And nothing had happened.

Steve had felt a shiver pass through him- he'd known that _something_ had happened, something about the world had been changed. It wasn't obvious- the streets weren't full of Hydra, so that was a good indication that whatever it was at least it hadn’t been Strucker's dream.

The whole incident with the cube had made Steve think about the past- about the things he would change, if he could. The people he missed having beside him. But the past was finished. The people he had known were all dead. And despite the fact that he was pleased they had all the leaders of Hydra in jail Steve hadn't felt... satisfied.

Tony had disappeared once they got back to the mansion and Steve had had a moment of fear, that maybe what had changed was _Tony_ \- that Tony didn't care for him anymore. That would have been an insidious victory for Strucker, not that it was something Strucker had known to seek to destroy.

Steve had slipped down to the armory, and he had found Tony frowning at his armor like it had specifically selected today to personally vex him. Steve'd found an old sketchbook he'd left near his usual seat and had picked it up. There had been a pencil stuck in a page that contained a half finished image of Tony smiling, and Steve had taken that as a sign. He sat down and set pencil to paper. Tony had finally looked up and noticed him, had come over and kissed him, and it was so _right_ that Steve had thought his heart might explode.

Whatever had changed hadn't changed anything he loved.

 

 

Steve thinks he notices they've started feeding him once every twenty-four hours instead of twelve. Time is difficult to measure, and the change in what was his one constant throws him off. He wonders if they've realized that he's harder to kill than the other prisoners he can occasionally hear screaming, or if they've moved on to trying to starve hope out of him.

The Interrogator doesn't come for several days, but then, just when Steve starts to hope they might be done with him, he reappears. It's a good tactic, Steve recognizes it, even as he grits his teeth against the pain, his body trying to twist away, to get away, to make it stop.

The session is shorter than previous ones, but the Interrogator returns more quickly; he's still tingling so Steve would guess about six hours. The shorter, more frequent sessions continue for what might be two days. He loses track at some point.

But there's nothing they can do that can stop him from _knowing_ that he will find a way out of this. He was frozen in ice for decades. Surely a few weeks being tortured by aliens is nothing in comparison. He has faith in his teammates and he knows they will come for him as soon as they can. Even better if he can find his own way out before they get here.

 

One day the Interrogator appears for his session, the door opening to admit him, and already Steve knows something is different- the cuffs around his wrists haven't activated to restrain him. So it's not really a surprise when he hears shooting in the hallway and Hulk comes barreling in, an alien in each hand as he smashes them to the ground. The team comes in after him, Hawkeye shooting arrows, Black Panther with vibranium claws to slice the cuffs from his wrists, Iron Man to lift his faceplate and look at Steve.

"You're a hard man to find, Captain," Panther says.

"But here you are," Tony says with a lopsided grin that makes Steve's heart twist.

Steve punches him in the face. "How stupid do you think I am?" he demands. He punches Hulk too, and throws Panther over his shoulder. Their form is terrible- truly, T'Challa would never be so sloppy- and his confident suspicion solidifies into absolute certainty when he pulls Mjolnir from where Thor drops it and tosses the hammer through the high, paneled wall that he's pretty sure is actually an observation station. The faces of his teammates slowly turning green, with pointed ears, doesn’t hurt.

He grabs the Interrogator and makes a run for it. His hostage seems confused by Steve's desire to get _out_ of wherever the heck they are, and when they come to a window, Steve understands why there is no _out_ \- finally understands why no one has come for him.

They are in _space_. He can see _Saturn_ outside the window- _Saturn_. It's... There aren't words.

But he can hear the aliens coming to find him, and so he takes his hostage and vanishes into air ducts and the shadowy spaces between places, in search of a room where he can mount a defense, or even just a few moments to gather his thoughts.

When it comes down to it, Steve certainly did not expect the first actual human he's seen in _weeks_ to be Madame Viper.

He jumps out of the ceiling and into her cell to find her holding a shiv to the throat of the Interrogator. "If you value this one's life, you'll do as I say," she says imperiously, but there is a desperation to the edge of her words as well.

When it comes down to it the only thing that matters is: "I’m human. And I’m guessing you are, too." He disarms her of her shiv when she attacks him and then hands the weapon back to her. "At the moment, that makes us allies."

She regards him doubtfully, but nods.

 

Steve manages to get all the cells opened in the prison block, and, standing in the hallway looking at each other warily, they find others: Bobbi Morse, codename Mockingbird, and Clay Quartermain of SHIELD; Henry Guyrich, director of SWORD; Lyle Getz, of AIM; and King Cobra, leader of the Serpent Society. Getting them to not kill each other isn't easy, but Viper already seeing the big picture helps.

But there's one more door that opens and Steve walks over to see whose cell it is, and there's The Invisible Woman. She's sedated, dead weight in his arms, but Steve isn't leaving anyone behind, much to Viper's irritation.

Viper remembers that shuttles had been used to transport them to this flying saucer, and they make their way to a docking bay in search of one. It feels like a trap when they don't encounter much resistance- until they encounter the last line of defense: a Super Skrull, who has all the powers of the Fantastic Four.

He may have all of their powers, but he's just one man. That makes him easier to beat. Or at least to circumvent. Steve sends the noncombatants to the shuttle, with Quartermain to shepherd them, and when more Skrulls appear the others start retreating as well. It's just him and Viper left and they run for the wobbling shuttlecraft that doesn't seem to be sure it can fly. Steve leaps for the open tailgate, but the Super Skrull grabs Viper at the last moment, pulling her back.

If there's one thing Steve knows, it's that he's not leaving anyone behind. He jumps out, smacking the Super Skrull in the face with his makeshift shield. "Get to the ship!" Steve yells to Viper. And when she stops for a moment and stares at him in incomprehension he yells again, "Go!" They're all going to make it, he thinks, all of them, and whatever he has to do to ensure that the others make it he will do. Even if it means he stays here, his shield torn away as he falls to the deck of the ship, the Super Skrull coming toward him.

Steve's a little startled when the wall of fire the Super Skrull is about to immolate him with bounces off a force field.

He glances up to see Viper supporting a still slightly out of it Susan in the open tailgate of the shuttle. Susan’s cheek is a little bruised and Steve would guess that Viper slapped her until she woke up. But Steve doesn't ask questions when there are more important things to be doing; he kicks the Super Skrull away and runs for it. The tailgate closes behind him and Viper. Steve shouts, "Go!”

And Clay Quartermain slams his fists against the control board of the shuttle with all the aplomb of desperation and accidentally triggers a hyperspace jump in the middle of the Skrull's docking bay.

It gets them free of the ship. After staring at the control board in dumb shock for a moment, Quartermain motions for Getz to join him. "Stay away from the weapons you little drone, but get over here and figure out how to fly this thing. We're going home!"

There's a unity of purpose in this moment that has everyone breathing deeply and agreeing: they are returning to Earth. What happens when they arrive is up for debate.

Steve leans against the bulkhead of the shuttle and closes his eyes for a moment. What will they return to? The other Avengers...

The alien who'd surprised him in his quarters had worn his own face. Not knowing that it was even _possible_ for someone to steal his face, do the Avengers even know he's gone?

Have they been replaced as well? Steve shivers, imagining a ship not unlike the one they just left, housing other Avengers, other highly placed and influential people. _Tony_. God, Tony. He hates to think that Tony might have suffered something like what he has suffered these past weeks, but he also hates to think of Tony not knowing that he's gone and what the Skrull with his face could be doing to him.

It's too much. He can't think about it. There's no use forming a battle plan when he's not even sure of the terrain. They have to get back to Earth. Then, he'll figure this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack listing: "Fortunate Son" is written by John Fogerty and performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
> 
> Amused Author Note: So there’s this blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment in “Prisoner of War” where one of the Skrulls says that the cell block where the humans are kept is called “beta.” I was parsing the episode for probably the tenth time when I heard it and I laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this story! Unfortunately, as much as I love happy endings, this story exists as a prequel and its ending ties particularly into the action in the next story in the series. So, Tony and Steve’s reunion will be taking place in the sequel, "One and One and One is Three."   
> Thank y'all so much for all the kudos, and please comment as you feel led to- I love comments, particularly constructive criticism!


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